


Dreamscape

by airandangels



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 11:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airandangels/pseuds/airandangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a very inadequate attempt to put together some ideas I've had floating around for quite a while now, having to do with Data, Julian, dreams and feelings. There are lots of alternatives that would also be fun; this is just one thing that I wrote down because why not? </p><p>P.S. turned into rumpy-pumpy; typical</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

N.B. The time period for this story is indeterminate and _please_ don’t worry about it. If you feel at all uncomfortable continuity-wise, assume it’s just a different leg of the Trousers of Time. In fact, yes, yes it is, because _Generations_ didn’t happen. I don’t like that movie, even if it does have dramatic lighting and Siddig El Fadil’s Uncle Malcolm.

 

The _Enterprise_ approached Deep Space Nine gracefully, gliding in to just kiss the docking pylon. O’Brien watched on the Ops viewscreen with a faint ache of nostalgia that was almost homesickness. He didn’t think he’d go back, given the choice now, but she was so beautiful and so full of memories, he thought he’d always be soppy about that ship. Ah, well, just so long as he didn’t visibly mist up in front of his team.

At the end of his shift he hurried home, where he found the table all set for dinner with guests and Keiko sitting on the couch with Molly in front of her, putting her hair into buns with ponytails hanging from them.

‘Look at my hair, Daddy!’ Molly said. ‘It’s a reward in advance, cause I’m going to be really really good.’

‘Looks great, darlin’,’ he told her, bending to kiss the parting in her hair before kissing Keiko’s cheek. ‘Looks like everything’s ready, then!’

‘Just waiting on Data and Geordi,’ she said, nodding with a pleased smile. ‘Oh, and I ran into Julian on the promenade coming home, and I’ve invited him too.’

‘What did you go and do that for?’ he aske in dismay, straightening up.

‘What do you mean?’ Keiko slid a bobby-pin into Molly’s hair and studied the effect. ‘He’s your best friend. Don’t pout, you know he is.’

‘Well it’s not that I don’t _like_ him, but you know how he is.’ O’Brien sat down on the floor beside Molly and fiddled with the hairbrush on the coffee table.

‘Pretend I don’t,’ Keiko said, giving him the wifely side-eye. ‘How is he?’

‘He’ll talk and talk and talk and he’ll take over. _My_ friends, who I haven’t seen in ages, he’ll take _them_ over.’

‘Aww, Daddy!’ Molly twisted away from her mother’s final adjustments and hugged him around the neck. ‘You can _all_ be friends.’

‘Besides which,’ Keiko pointed out, ‘he’s friendly with them already. That’s why I invited him; when he heard we were having Data and Geordi over, his face just lit up.’

‘He _uses_ that face, you know,’ O’Brien grumbled. He was playing it up a little bit, he’d have to admit. ‘Big bloody eyes like - there, like that!’ He tapped the page of the antique comic book, open on the coffee table, that Keiko was using as a model for Molly’s hairstyle.

‘That’s true,’ said Keiko, laughing. ‘Maybe that’s why it works so well on me; I’ve been programmed for it since childhood. Okay, Molly-moo, I think your hair is done. It should stay up as long as you don’t pull on it or fiddle with the pins.’

‘Do I look like a moon princess?’ Molly asked her father, hanging on around his neck and depositing her bottom in his lap.

‘You look exactly like a moon princess. I came in and thought where’s my daughter? and what’s that moon princess doing wearing her clothes?’

‘Well that’s just _silly,’_ she said severely. At this point there was a chime at their door, and he got up with a grunt, handing her off to her mother.

‘Hello! Come in!’ The door slid back and their guests stepped through, Geordi smiling broadly and Data looking around, inquisitive as a bird.

‘Chief!’ Geordi stepped in and hugged O’Brien around the shoulders, clapping him on the back. ‘Man, it’s good to see you!’

‘You too, you too. How’ve you been?’ He held Geordi back at arm’s length to get a good look at him. ‘You look weird without your visor.’

‘Gee, thanks,’ Geordi said, laughing and blinking his silvery artificial eyes.

‘No, I mean, it was like part of your face, I was so used to it. I swear I could see when you gave someone a dirty look through it.’

‘Well, now I can give people dirty looks without any barrier.’

‘And Data!’ O’Brien exclaimed, letting Geordi go and turning towards him. ‘How are you?’

‘I am well.’ Data stepped forward and, probably in imitation of Geordi, hugged O’Brien, a little stiffly. There was always a _carefulness_ when Data touched you, O’Brien thought; you could just slightly feel him taking care not to hurt you, being so strong. ‘I trust that you and your family are too.’

‘Oh yeah, they’re great.’ O’Brien stepped back and waved them over. ‘Keiko’s been educating the masses and look how much Molly’s grown.’

Keiko hugged Geordi warmly while Molly hung back, holding onto a pinch of her father’s trouser leg and looking doubtfully up at Data.

‘Remember Mister Data?’ O’Brien said encouragingly. He bobbed down to crouch beside Molly and talk at her level. ‘You were really little, but maybe you can remember he used to baby-sit you sometimes when we lived on the _Enterprise?’_

Molly shook her head and put her forefinger in her mouth.

‘Now come on, even if you don’t remember you can say hello like a big girl.’

Data crouched down too. ‘Good evening, Molly. Baby-sitting for you was an intriguing experience. I had first to persuade your parents that I was competent to do it.’

‘Well, to be fair,’ O’Brien said, ‘pointing out that you knew how to take care of a cat didn’t really convince us you could handle a human baby.’

‘Many of the same principles apply.’

‘She did enjoy crawling around after a ball of paper on a string,’ Keiko said. 

‘Which developed both her gross motor skills and her hand-eye co-ordination,’ Data said with a trace of pride. 

‘Did I really?’ Molly asked.

‘Yes,’ Data told her. ‘You also enjoyed games of peek-a-boo, and bath-time.’

‘I still sometimes play I’m a cat,’ Molly volunteered. ‘I have a headband with ears and I pin a tail on my butt and I drink out of a bowl on the floor.’

‘That must be enjoyable,’ Data said politely. He looked up as the door chimed again.

‘We have another guest tonight,’ Keiko said. ‘You remember Julian Bashir. Come in, Julian!’ The door opened to reveal Julian with an eager smile and a bottle of wine.

‘Doctor Bashir,’ said Data, rising. ‘This is a pleasant surprise.’

‘It’s so good to see you again,’ Julian said, stepping forward and shaking his hand effusively. O’Brien thought, a trifle gruffly, that if he hadn’t been holding the bottle he would have gone for a double-hander. ‘And Commander LaForge! How are you? I promise not to zap your friend with any alien devices this time.’

‘Although alarming at the time,’ Data put in, ‘that experience has proved immensely rewarding. I would like to tell you more about it.’

As the evening went on, it wasn’t so much that Julian took over Geordi and Data as that he and Data took each other over and conducted a long, detailed, highly technical and enthusiastic conversation while  everyone else had dinner and caught up around them. Nobody expected Data to eat dinner, but Julian kept forgetting his food and needing gentle reminders to finish it.

‘I’m sorry, Keiko,’ he said as she politely coughed to let him know she was ready to take away his soup bowl. ‘But this is so interesting! Were you at all conscious of “being” the other characters in the Deadwood holo-drama?’ he went on, turning back to Data.

During the post-dessert tea-and-coffee phase, when Keiko went to put Molly to bed and the adults relocated to the couch, the two of them stayed at the table chattering away, having borrowed one of O’Brien’s engineering padds the better to explain things to each other, with diagrams and animations. 

At length, Geordi announced that he thought he’d head home now, and looked expectantly over at Data.

‘It looks as if I have to let you go,’ Julian said, smiling ruefully.

‘Geordi, if you would not mind, I would like to remain a little longer,’ said Data.

‘It’s not that I mind,’ Geordi said, ‘but is it fair to the O’Briens? It’s getting late.’

‘We can certainly take our conversation elsewhere,’ Julian offered. ‘Perhaps to Quark’s?’

‘Or perhaps,’ said Data, ‘you would accompany me to my quarters, and I could show you some of the art I have created based on my dreams.’

‘What a good idea,’ Keiko said quickly.

 

Julian thought he had probably been a pretty bad guest this evening, but he was enjoying himself so much that it was hard to feel particularly remorseful. Data was just so delightful, and so interesting, both for what he was and for the way he thought, the things he said, the oddity and charm of his perspective. He could easily have spent twenty-four hours a day with him for a week, he thought, and only have found more to delight him. At the door to his quarters on the _Enterprise,_ he stopped and turned to Julian, his expression apprehensive.

‘I must warn you,’ he said, ‘that my cat, Spot, is sometimes... hostile towards unfamiliar visitors. She is a good cat, but she does not easily trust new people.’

‘It’s all right,’ Julian said, amused at how concerned Data was that he should not think ill of his cat. ‘I’ve known a few cats like that. Actually, I’ve known a few people like that, too. Major Kira springs to mind. I promise not to make any sudden movements or tactless comments.’

‘That would be best,’ Data said earnestly. He led the way into the main room, where a marmalade cat was lying curled up on the top layer of a tiered cat tree. At the sound of the door, she hastily uncoiled herself and jumped down with a thump, trotting over to Data with her loose underbelly swaying from side to side, uttering little chirrups of welcome.

‘Hello, Spot!’ said Data, and the pronunciation of the first word swung close to ‘hewwo.’ He bent down and picked up the cat, which twisted around immediately to put her front paws on his chest and rub her face against his nose and chin in adoration.

‘What a little sweetie,’ Julian exclaimed, thinking Data must have been exaggerating her ‘hostility.’ He held out a hand for Spot to sniff, and was rewarded with a flat-eared glare and a hiss like tearing paper. She made a feint at scratching his hand, too, and smacked his knuckles quite hard, albeit with claws retracted.

‘I did warn you,’ Data said apologetically. Spot had gone stiff in his arms and was whipping her tail around, staring at Julian as indignantly as if he had walked in and pissed on the carpet. ‘Calm down, Spot. Dr Bashir is a friend. He will not harm either of us. There now, there now.’

‘That is one very angry cat,’ Julian said, astonished.

‘I think she may have had an unhappy childhood,’ Data explained. ‘I adopted her from a shelter on a starbase that we visited. She was already nine months old and had been misidentified as a male. When I first brought her home she often scratched and bit me, but in time I gained her trust.’ He had managed to soothe Spot a little, and was smoothing down the puffy fur of her cheeks with the side of his forefinger.

‘That’s another thing that fascinates me. What made you decide to adopt a pet?’

Data looked at the cat thoughtfully. ‘The care of a pet is recommended for human children, in order to help them develop nurturing qualities and compassion, as well as a sense of responsibility. I wished to see if it would do the same for me.’

‘I doubt you were all that irresponsible before.’

‘I was more interested in compassion,’ Data agreed. ‘Besides that, I experienced a degree of identification with Spot when I saw her in the adoption display. She was, like me, an orphan. I wished to do for her what others had done for me, and give her a home.’

‘Then it doesn’t sound as if you needed to _learn_ compassion,’ Julian said, inwardly curling up like a prawn at the cuteness of his mental image of Data peering in through the display window. 

Data looked at him curiously. ‘Even without emotion?’ he asked.

Julian shrugged. ‘I see no reason to think it can’t exist independently. Anyway, you were going to show me your dream art.’

‘Yes!’ Data bent and set Spot down; she gave a little huffing sound and scampered off to a corner where she sat down to wash herself. Her owner hurried off and opened a drawer in the wall from which he took a large portfolio. Opening it out on a tabletop, he waved Julian over to inspect it. ‘Each time I dream I make a series of sketches of the images which made the strongest impression on me. I have arranged them in chronological order, but have also employed a system of cross-referencing to identify recurring elements. Certain images occur so often that I have tentatively identified them as archetypes, though perhaps not quite in the Jungian sense. I question whether I can be said to share in the human collective unconscious.’

‘Such as?’ Julian asked.

‘Here.’ Data flipped rapidly through the pages, stopping precisely on each one he wished to display. ‘Blacksmith’s tools appear frequently and are associated with my father and his work, although he seldom appears directly. I have told you already about the bird, which I sometimes see as a being distinct from myself, and with which at other times I identify completely, inhabiting its body. It is a large corvid, but its precise characteristics vary from dream to dream.’

‘Crows are highly intelligent birds, so it’s a rather apt one for you,’ Julian said, nodding appreciatively. ‘You do draw well, Data. You’ve managed to convey the impression of the wings flapping, here, although it’s a still picture. I’ve never been much good at art; I wish I could get a picture out of my head and onto the page like that. Have I been in any of your dreams?’ He rather hoped so.

‘Four,’ Data replied promptly. ‘In the first and second, you were present in a group of people who had gathered for some unclear purpose. In the third, you appeared to live in my quarters, although I did not know why or for how long you had been there.’

‘Was I a welcome presence?’ Julian asked, amused. 

‘Yes. You were agreeable company. In the fourth dream, which occurred last night, you appeared with an old-fashioned hypodermic needle and drew apparently real blood from my arm. Here is the drawing.’

‘That’s a bit weird. I suppose the timing makes sense; you anticipated you might see me again, and I flatter myself you looked forward to it a bit. I don’t know what the blood might mean, though - or that hypodermic, which looks like something out of a medical museum.’ He hoped that wasn’t a sinister element; more and more he found he wanted Data to think of him in only the most positive terms.

‘As with the blacksmith’s tools, antiquated technology often appears in my dreams. I do not understand it, but it may be attributable to my interest in Sherlock Holmes. The settings of my dreams are sometimes the interior of this ship, but at other times resemble Victorian London, or a variety of other locations distant in both time and space.’

‘And what was your response to this?’ Julian asked, examining the drawing. It was a good likeness, showing him with his head slightly bent forward, evidently concentrating as the syringe filled with liquid, shaded dark grey in Data’s pencil sketch. He found it rather remarkable that Data could draw him so accurately based on a dream, when they hadn’t seen each other for over a year - but then, Data’s visual memory was very different from a human one, far more like a holographic recording in which, as he thought back on a past event, he could pause at any time and zoom in to observe any detail. The only limitation would be point of view; he couldn’t remember things at angles from which he had not seen them. It didn’t mean anything special that he remembered Julian so well.

‘Satisfaction,’ Data said, after a judicious pause. ‘I cannot explain why, but I found it a very satisfactory sight.’

‘Any idea what I wanted with your blood?’

‘None; though I presume you had some medical test in mind.’

‘I have to admit, if I had more time with you I would always be fiddling away at one thing or another, trying to find out more about how you work. But only with your permission, of course. I hope dream me asked politely before taking your blood.’

‘I do not have a distinct memory of that, but I do not remember having any objection to his doing so.’ Data brushed away a crumb of eraser dust from the drawing with his thumb. ‘This is one of the particularly strange elements of my dreams. I do not remember all their events in a linear manner. Their narratives do not have distinct beginnings, middles and ends. Then there is the odd perception of time, of which I have already informed you. Though I can set the length of time for which I will remain in my sleep mode, this bears no relationship to the passage of time which I subjectively experience within the dream. When I wake I often experience a brief disorientation as I reconcile reality with my impression that several days, or in some cases, only a few minutes, have passed.’

‘I realise it’s strange to experience it, but you do know, don’t you, that that’s exactly like human dreaming? In that respect it’s not strange at all.’

‘What do you dream about?’ Data asked. 

‘All sorts of things,’ Julian said, unprepared for the investigative spotlight to move to himself. ‘Er, anxiety dreams, sex dreams, dreams that just flat-out don’t make any sense. Last night I dreamed I was growing a tail. It itched terribly just at the base of my spine, and I kept scratching it surreptitiously, and suddenly it burst through and sort of wormed its way out to full length... it was really quite disgusting. But after that,’ he went on, brightening, ‘I discovered it was prehensile and awfully useful.’ He noticed Data’s baffled expression and patted him on the shoulder, reassuringly. ‘I did say it didn’t make any sense.’

‘I have had bizarre dreams myself. Look at this one,’ Data said, flipping back the pages to one of fragmentary sketches.

‘Is that woman a cake? Wait, is she _drinking_ out of his _head?’_

‘Yet the imagery of this dream represented something which was happening in reality, and which I had perceived subconsciously.’

‘Is this you with a _phone_ in your _tummy?_ I had no idea you were such a surrealist.’

‘Geordi and Captain Picard were able to discover the meaning of my dreams by entering them via the holodeck.’

‘Now that’s something I’d like to try! Or better - not in the holodeck, but entering your dream _directly._ An interface should be possible - I’ve been researching this device, a multitronic - ‘

‘- engrammatic interpreter?’ Data finished in time with him.

‘Exactly! Do you have one? I’ve been trying to get hold of one.’

‘There is one in the engineering lab.’

‘Then let’s get it and try it!’

Data hesitated. ‘Are you sure you wish to attempt it tonight? It is getting late.’

‘Firstly, I don’t need a lot of sleep. Secondly, I’ll be _getting_ some sleep, I’ll just be getting to have an amazing and quite groundbreaking adventure at the same time. Come on!’ He took Data’s arm and hurried him out. 

 

‘Where would you rather do this?’ Julian asked. They had removed the MEI from the engineering lab without anyone seeing them, and while there was technically nothing wrong with a science officer and a doctor borrowing a piece of equipment for a personal experiment, the whole thing felt a bit sneaky and midnight-feast-ish. If he had been wearing a two-part uniform like Data’s he would have been tempted to hide the MEI up under his top on the way back.

‘I believe one’s bed is customary. That is where I normally dream. Spot appears to approve of this behaviour, and sleeps on my chest.’ 

‘All right, then.’ It was the work of a few minutes to modify the MEI with cables that could connect to the inputs in the side of Data’s head. Julian realised as he did so that the cables weren’t very long; rather than sitting in a chair beside the bed, he would need to lie down beside Data. Well, that didn’t bother him if it didn’t bother Data, and he was so keen to get on with the experiment that he couldn’t be bothered to go and find or replicate longer ones. Spot watched them with a miffed expression as they lay down.

‘How do you control when you’ll wake up?’ Julian asked. 

‘Although I have been told it is not amusing, I like to refer to it as an android alarm clock,’ Data said. He rolled onto his side and hitched up the back of his uniform top, showing an expanse of pale skin with an odd little indentation in it, off to the right of his spine. ‘This is an external control which can render me unconscious and set a time at which I will wake. It is also, I suppose, a failsafe. If it is necessary for the safety of the ship or the crew to knock me out, it can be done.’

‘Do you mind if I examine it?’ There was something very vulnerable-looking about that indentation, and he didn’t want to go poking his fingers where they weren’t welcome, but he did want to touch and explore.

‘Not at all. I do request that you do not speak of it to others. The senior staff of the _Enterprise_ are aware of it, as I said, for safety reasons, but otherwise, I prefer to keep it private.’

‘Of course. Thank you for trusting me with it.’ Julian touched it lightly, then pressed a little more firmly to investigate the texture. ‘I can feel two little nubs under the skin.’

‘Hours and minutes,’ Data said, nodding. ‘I can also activate the alarm clock internally without touching it, but as we are performing this experiment together, I thought it would be useful for you to know.’

‘Thank you,’ Julian said again. His face felt slightly warm and he told himself not to be ridiculous.

‘The slightly larger nub controls hours, the smaller minutes,’ Data was saying. ‘If you depress one until you feel a click, that will add one of that unit to the count of sleep time. When you are ready to make me sleep, press both simultaneously. I can also be awoken ahead of time by pressing both simultaneously.’

‘It shouldn’t seem so strange to me,’ Julian said, hoping to dispel the sense of strangeness by saying it out loud. ‘After all, I have pressure points on my body that could render me unconscious with the right technique. Actually, can you do that? I think I heard somewhere that you could do the Vulcan nerve pinch.’

‘Yes.’

‘You must have tremendous dexterity. I tried to learn it in medical school, as a sort of emergency anaesthetic, but I can only get it right about twenty percent of the time.’ _Stop touching his back,_ he told himself sensibly, and pulled the waistband of the top back into line. _It might help if you stopped babbling too._ ‘But you don’t need to pinch me for this. The MEI will take me under quite nicely.’

‘Good.’ Data settled on his back, giving Julian what he thought was an odd look. ‘Are you comfortable with this procedure, Doctor?’

‘Yes, perfectly.’

‘Oh. I apologise - I may have misinterpreted your tone.’

‘Not to worry. Well then. I suppose we may as well begin.’

‘Then I will enter my sleep state, and you may follow me in one minute’s time.’ Data closed his eyes and went still. After watching him closely for a moment, Julian detected that he was still breathing, his chest rising and falling slightly. It reminded him of how still cats went when sleeping, so that you had to poke them or blow in their ears to make sure they were still alive. Speaking of cats, Spot jumped up on the bed suddenly, startling him, and after giving him a filthy look, made herself comfortable on Data’s chest, turning around until she nestled down into a doughnut shape. 

Julian took a deep breath and let it out gently, positioned the MEI on his forehead, made himself comfortable and activated the device. He quickly became drowsy. His last conscious thought was ‘Same to you, cat.’

He was in a hallway somewhere on the _Enterprise,_ one with windows along one wall, and Data was standing looking out at the stars. 

‘Hello,’ Julian said, wondering how one began a conversation in a dream. Data turned and looked at him, and his face brightened.

‘Excellent. I had hoped that this would be a lucid dream.’

‘It would be awkward if it wasn’t. But how wonderful that it’s really worked!’ Julian looked around him, beaming. ‘And it all seems real. I can see, hear, feel - I don’t notice any smells, but I don’t think I can remember ever smelling in my dreams anyway.’ He ran his hand over the wall to make sure it felt solid. As his hand passed from the wall to what should have been the transparent aluminium of the window, it suddenly popped through, meeting no resistance. There was no window pane; his hand was sticking out into space. Hesitantly, he leaned forward and poked his head out, finding that either he could still breathe, or breathing didn’t matter in this dream. Nor, apparently, did being exposed to a vacuum. Well, it didn’t matter for Data, did it? Therefore, perhaps, it didn’t matter as long as you were in his dream.

The view was jaw-droppingly beautiful, a vast, whirling starfield, and he felt both surrounded by it and _exposed_ to it in a way that he couldn’t remember feeling in his life. Even when he had taken space-walks during Academy training, naturally he had been protected by a suit. Here he was simply hanging his bare head out of the side of a Galaxy-class starship travelling at impulse speed. His mouth felt dry and his eyes wet, and when he blinked, minuscule teardrops drifted from his eyelashes and out into the shining dark. It was too much, and he ducked back inside. 

‘Do you like it?’ Data asked, sounding almost shy.

Julian began to speak, found his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, swallowed hard and tried again. ‘Like is far too small a word. That... out there... it’s astonishing. Incredible. My God!’

‘Would you like a better view?’ Data suddenly disappeared in a confusion of dark feathers; there was now a large, bright-eyed crow sitting on the windowsill, looking at him with its head tilted in a way that was pure Data. 

‘I’m not sure I can do that,’ Julian admitted with a nervous laugh.

‘Try,’ the bird said, without moving its beak. ‘Perhaps if you visualise a type of bird with which you can identify, that will work. My father told me that I _was_ this bird.’

‘All right, then... what about a falcon? A peregrine falcon, that sounds good.’ He closed his eyes and visualised the bird as thoroughly as he could, tried to imagine his own body sort of folding up and collapsing inward as Data’s had appeared to, feathers materialising around him and closing in to cover him, but he remained obstinately the same shape. ‘Not working. Can you change me?’

The bird cocked its head to a different angle and stared at him intently, but nothing happened. ‘I believe I have an alternative.’ What happened next was confusing, since it was not clear to Julian whether the bird grew or he shrank, but at the end of it the bird was much larger than he was. ‘You may ride on my back.’

‘Do you think that will work? I’ve never ridden a bird, I have to admit... except an ostrich in holo- _Joust..._ and I suspect that isn’t very realistic. Can I hold onto your feathers, or will they pull out?’ He reached out hesitantly and touched the glossy feathers of the bird’s shoulder.

‘I believe they will not, and in any case, it is only a dream.’ The bird crouched down obligingly.

‘I hope we don’t wake up to find I’ve pulled out handfuls of your hair.’ Still, he slid his hand in amongst the feathers, grasped the shafts of a couple that seemed firmly rooted, and swung his leg up and over the bird’s back. It wasn’t highly comfortable, but it wasn’t too bad, and he felt fairly secure once he had shifted his position a little and made sure of his balance. ‘All right -’ 

Before he could finish, the bird had leapt from the window and was gliding out into space. From that point he could only hold on as they swooped through the night, feeling absurdly like an illustration in a children’s book. Scale and space stretched and squashed; they slalomed between planets and stars, dove down through the canopies of forested worlds and shot through the arching loops of solar flares. At first Julian cowered down between the bird’s shoulder-blades, but as he got used to it he sat up a little straighter, then a little higher, until he was holding on with his knees and waving his arms in the air shouting ‘Whee!’

At last the bird flew down among the chimneypots and spires of a smoky city and darted in through an open window. Julian rolled off its back onto the carpeted floor and lay there gasping and laughing while the ceiling spun above him.

‘Are you all right, my dear fellow?’ asked a voice with a distinctly strange accent, sort of plummy and nasal at the same time. Data bent over him, no longer a bird, wearing a magnificent dressing-gown.

‘You! You, haha, you’re Sherlock Holmes,’ Julian said, waving an unsteady finger at him.

‘Quite.’ Data helped him to his feet, steadying him as he swayed.

‘Are we in Baker Street? I’m really not dressed for this...’

‘Perhaps you could be. It would appear easier than transforming into a bird,’ Data said, dropping back into his normal voice, which Julian found far more agreeable. 

‘All right... let me try...’ He concentrated fiercely, and this time it worked, his uniform changing into a quite respectable brown tweed suit. ‘I suppose that’s because I know what it feels like to wear a suit... just not to be a bird.’

‘Clearly I failed to describe it in terms that you could understand,’ Data said ruefully.

‘Don’t worry about it. That was absolutely marvellous. I had no idea we could do anything like that. Thank you, Data, thank you so much! I suppose I’d thought it would just be like a holodeck, and certainly, they can do wonderful things, but this was... well, it was something else entirely, it was... I don’t know _why_ it was so wonderful... and I’m not really making sense. But thank you!’ 

‘It is... not what I expected,’ Data said, sounding as if he was choosing his words carefully. ‘Perhaps because we are directly sharing our perceptions, I find the experience... intimate?’ He said that last word so timidly, it was as if he thought Julian would be offended.

‘Well, of course it is. Mind to mind.’ Julian touched his own forehead, then Data’s. ‘Just think how annoyed the Vulcans would be by us doing with technology what they spend years meditating and training to do psychically.’

‘I think... and I am not certain, but it is difficult to think of any other way to express it... that I _am_ having what might be termed a psychic experience. A form of empathy or sympathy. I believe I am perceiving your emotions.’

‘Directly, you mean? As I experience them? All the exhilaration I felt on that magic bird ride? But Data, that’s marvellous!’ Without really thinking about it, he was touching Data again, grasping his upper arms.

‘It is confusing,’ Data said. He backed away and sat down in one of the wing-backed armchairs flanking the fireplace. ‘The only prior experience with which I can compare this is the time when my brother, Lore, attempted to control me by sharing his emotions with me. I wanted them so much that I compromised my own ethical standards in order to continue receiving them. That is, I think, the worst thing I have ever done.’

‘I can’t speak for that,’ Julian said, kneeling beside him. ‘But this clearly isn’t the same. He must have been sending you emotions on purpose; I had no idea it was possible. And I don’t want you to do anything unethical, far from it. I don’t ask anything in return for the feelings - I just want you to enjoy yourself. Please don’t worry about it.’ He paused, looking carefully at Data’s face. He looked miserable. ‘You are _worrying_ about it.’

‘I cannot help it.’

‘Think about that very carefully, Data. You’re worrying. You feel guilty, don’t you?’

Data’s eyes widened very slightly. ‘I feel guilty,’ he repeated slowly.

‘You’re not feeling _my_ emotions. That’s your own feeling. You’re - you’re somehow sharing my _capacity_ for emotion, through the neural link. At least, that’s what it sounds like - we have to test this!’

‘Tell me a joke,’ Data suggested, his eyes wider still.

‘I can’t think of any! Oh, damn it... no, wait! What’s invisible and smells like carrots?’

‘I do not know. What _is_ invisible and smells like carrots?’

‘Rabbit farts.’

Data looked sincerely baffled.

‘All right, all right, that’s not one of my better ones. I’m not _good_ at jokes.’

‘No! I see it! The rabbits _eat_ carrots, therefore the farts - that is funny!’ The look of bafflement had changed to one of shock and astonishment.

‘You’re not laughing, though.’

‘But it _is_ funny! I can see that! Tell me another one.’ He leaned forward avidly.

‘I can’t believe I had the opportunity to introduce the joys of humour to a superintelligent artificial life-form and I told a fart joke I learned in the second grade. Er, um, all right. What do you call a man with a seagull on his head?’

‘What?’

‘Cliff.’

The reaction to this ancient joke was far more lavish than it had ever deserved; Data doubled over laughing and could not stop for almost a minute. He would attempt it, catch his breath for a moment and then begin laughing again. Julian went from worrying slightly to laughing helplessly with him, rocking back on his heels as he knelt before the chair. 

At length, Data managed to straighten up, wiped some yellowish fluid from the corners of his eyes, and said in a weak voice ‘I have laughed like that once in my life, and that was a gift from Q, an experience which I could never recapture. But if your hypothesis is correct, as long as we remain linked I can laugh at as many jokes as I wish.’

‘I envy you, then; I met Q once, didn’t know who he was, and he put some sort of sleep spell on me because he thought I was trying to steal his girlfriend.’

‘That is funny too,’ Data pointed out, giggling slightly.

‘Me not recognising him, or Q having a girlfriend? He did seem a bit of a pillock, I have to say.’

‘And pillock is a funny word.’ Abruptly, Data gasped. ‘He was right! Words that end in K!’ Before Julian could work out what that meant, he had changed the subject. ‘We must investigate whether I am capable of a full range of emotions. Do you think you could frighten me?’

‘I don’t want to - I like this being a nice lucid dream, not a nightmare.’

Data’s eyes widened again. ‘There is also the question of whether this emotional capacity exists only while you and I are connected in this way, or whether, after disconnecting, I will retain it. What if you have unintentionally activated a previously unknown aspect of my programming, _again?’_

‘That would be _amazing.’_ Julian felt a shiver run from his tailbone to the nape of his neck at the thought of it. 

‘And now - now I believe I am frightened,’ Data said. He had an inward-looking expression on his face now, as if he was not wholly aware of what was in front of him.

‘Why? Of what?’ Julian took his hand and gave it a little squeeze.

‘Of disconnecting and discovering the answer to that question.’

‘But the answer could be absolutely wonderful.’

‘Even if the answer is that the capacity remains, that is still quite intimidating,’ Data said, turning his hand slightly in Julian’s grasp and holding it, properly, in return. ‘It will change my life. I would ordinarily approach this change with nothing but eager curiosity, but as I contemplate it now...’

‘It’s okay to be nervous, Data. But we will have to find out sooner or later; you’ll wake up on your timer, and then I will too.’

‘And there is no way of knowing, from within the dream, when that will be.’

Data looked so scared now, his eyes huge and his mouth small and pinched, that Julian put his arms around him. ‘It will be all right. _You’ll_ be all right.’ He felt Data stiffen up for a moment, and regretted being so handsy, but before he had time to pull away the hug was returned, hesitantly at first, but soon more definitely. In fact, Data bent forward and put his head down on his shoulder, and his heart bumped a little bit at how trusting that felt.

‘Will you promise me that if this is only possible when we are connected via the MEI, we will do it again?’ Data asked, his voice slightly muffled. 

‘Of course I will. I promise. As much as you want.’

‘But the _Enterprise_ will stay at your station for only six more days. You cannot guarantee that last part.’

‘True. All right. As much as possible, in the time we have... and allowing for the demands of both of our jobs, of course.’ After a moment’s hesitation, he tried stroking Data’s hair, hoping it would feel soothing. ‘Better?’

‘Yes. Please continue.’

‘Like this?’

‘Yes. It is comforting. This, too, is a new experience, to have an emotional response to physical contact. I am able to elicit such responses in others, but now I feel it for myself.’

‘Well, I suppose now you know how your cat feels when you cuddle her and stroke her.’ 

‘Perhaps.’ Data was quiet for a while; Julian could feel him gently, steadily breathing, his hands still on his own back. He made a small but conscious effort to keep his own breathing steady. He was feeling increasingly cross with himself for impulsively going further and further into physical contact with someone who couldn’t be expected to reciprocate what he was beginning to feel (goodness knew Data had enough to process emotionally without that), and for not being more conscious of those feelings from the beginning. He could excuse himself by saying that he didn’t normally feel this way about other men, that Garak had been a first, and Data was so unlike _him_ that it wasn’t as if he should have seen it coming, but he was an adult and surely ought to be more astute than that. So here he was with a burgeoning crush on someone very special and unusual who urgently needed him to be reliable and helpful and wise, not distracted by how very much he’d like to try kissing him.

_I was attracted to him from the beginning; I was so excited about meeting him and so fascinated by him... idiot, idiot, idiot. At least I can say that some sort of rule is emerging here; with women I’m physically attracted at once, while with men the sexual attraction emerges as I get to know them. And I want to take care of him, which is both part of the attraction and part of why it could be a mistake to act on the attraction... aargh. He smells good. I am smelling in a dream, and he smells_ really _good._

‘All right now?’ he murmured.

‘Thank you, but I am still anxious. May I remain in your arms a while longer?’

‘Of course,’ Julian said, ‘although we might need to rearrange ourselves a bit, because my knees are getting sore.’

‘Even in a dream?’

‘In some ways this is a very realistic dream.’

‘What if I altered this armchair to be a sofa, so that we could sit side by side?’

‘Good idea.’ He had hoped to be able to disengage without making Data feel rejected, not to snuggle up on a Chesterfield, but the transition took place seamlessly, just as he would expect of a dream, and he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t like it.

‘Is this all right?’ Data asked him, settling again with his head on Julian’s shoulder and his arms around his waist.

‘Of course. Nothing wrong with a cuddle between friends.’

‘True.’ Data was quiet again for a while. ‘May I ask a personal question? Perhaps complicated by the fact that this _is_ a dream?’

‘Of course.’

‘You have commented in the past that I appear remarkably “real,” because of my respiratory and circulatory functions. Do I still seem “real” in close contact?’

‘Yes, you do. You feel warm, and... nice.’ He cleared his throat, and shifted his seat.

‘Am I making you uncomfortable?’

‘Not at all.’

‘I suspect that I am.’ Data sat up and scooted forward to the edge of the seat. ‘In which case I appreciate your willingness to tolerate discomfort for my sake, but am unwilling to subject you to more of it. My behaviour has been inappropriate, my advances unwelcome, and I apologise.’

‘Your _advances,’_ Julian repeated. ‘Come back here and explain that.’ He hooked an arm around Data’s waist and pulled him back.

‘I find you attractive and was attempting to express that through physical proximity,’ Data said in a small voice, looking down. ‘But you seemed uncomfortable.’

‘This isn’t just happening because it’s a dream and I would like you to feel this way, I hope,’ Julian said. ‘That would be awful.’

‘Then you are also attracted to me?’

‘I should say so.’

‘In that case, may I kiss you?’ It was said so eagerly, so sweetly, with such an openly hopeful expression on Data’s gentle face that Julian had to bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh.

‘I wish you would.’ He closed his eyes, half-smiling, and pulled Data closer. He felt a soft hand on his cheek, and then warm lips against his. He was just melting into it when it melted away.

He woke, on his side when he had fallen asleep on his back, twisted towards Data, who was still on his back, but had turned his head to gaze over at him, looking astonished, his mouth half-open.

‘Shh,’ Julian said, though Data didn’t seem to have anything to say, rolled in and kissed him deeply. _Oh, please let him still feel it._ After a moment he got what felt like an avid response, and the next moment he was shocked but thrilled by the way Data was evidently prepared to use his tongue. He needed to check, though, to make sure this wasn’t just Data _trying._

‘Are you still-’

‘Yes.’

‘Good.’ Julian pulled him closer, wrapped one leg over his thigh as Data’s arms closed around him and their mouths found each other again. _I don’t care how silly or ill-advised this is, it feels wonderful and I want it._ He slid his hand up under Data’s uniform top, stroking his smooth back, and felt him stiffen up. ‘Sorry. Sorry, no, didn’t mean it like that... I just wanted to touch you, I won’t...’ 

‘Please be careful. The thought of being deactivated during intimacy distresses me greatly.’

‘I don’t blame you.’

‘To have attention called so blatantly to my artificiality...’ Data stopped, closing his eyes for a moment. 

‘Here.’ Julian reached up and gently detached the wires from the side of Data’s head, smoothing back the flap of his scalp. He pushed back the MEI from his own forehead with the other hand. ‘There, we can feel just as real as you want.’

Data blinked rapidly, and his expression went blank. ‘It is gone,’ he said. ‘The emotion is gone.’ He lifted himself on one arm, looking down at Julian’s flushed face. ‘How unfair.’

‘Well, don’t worry. We can put them back on. We can go back into the dream, if you like. There’s no need to stop. I _really_ don’t want to stop.’

‘I had hoped it would be permanent,’ Data said. ‘Not dependent on the connection. Now, even though I can experience emotion with you, I will lose it again when we have to depart. I could almost wish that this had not happened, so that I would be unaware of what I was missing.’

‘Don’t think about that now... let’s just enjoy this while we can.’

‘I cannot choose not to think,’ Data said plaintively. He tilted his head, his eyes darting away briefly. ‘There is something we should try.’

‘I’m game for just about anything,’ Julian said hopefully, although the likelihood of this ending in an afterglow seemed to be dwindling. Data rolled away from him, once more hitching up the back of his top. 

‘If you will press the buttons and hold them down for a count of ten, wait one minute and press them again -’

‘The old turn-it-off-and-turn-it-on-again routine?’ Julian asked doubtfully. ‘I suppose Miles does swear by it... but won’t this be uncomfortable for you? With what you said just now...’

‘It will be worth setting aside my aversion if my emotions are restored. Please do it.’

‘All right... although I do feel a bit strange about it.’ Julian slipped his fingers into the indentation, feeling for the two small nubs. ‘Data... I do hope this works the way you want it to, but if it shouldn’t, I hope you know you are absolutely marvellous just as you are.’

‘Even if the way I am precludes my reciprocating your affection?’

‘Even then.’ Julian kissed the nape of Data’s neck. ‘You are wonderful, and whatever relationship you are able to have with me, I’ll be glad and grateful for it. Now. Fingers crossed, eh?’

‘Thank you.’

Julian pressed in and felt the mechanism click. Data went completely still, not the cat-stillness of his sleep. Julian counted aloud to distract himself from the eeriness of that. ‘One Mississippi, two Mississippi...’ 

Spot wandered back into the room from wherever she had been, jumped up on the bed and gave him an accusing glare. 

‘Yes, all right, I’m not actually killing your daddy,’ Julian muttered. ‘I’m just trying to... well, I suppose I’m trying to reboot his consciousness in the hope that he’ll want to make out some more.’ It was the sort of thing you could only really verbalise to a cat. Spot stared at him blankly, swivelled her ears uncertainly, and jumped down from the bed again, padding off into the bathroom.

‘Ten,’ Julian concluded. He released the pressure and began a very long-feeling minute’s wait. Although Spot was probably not listening to him any more, he asked the air ‘What do you suppose it is that makes me so attracted to such odd people? Here’s a beautiful lady with a worm in her tummy. Here’s a sexy exiled spy with a wire in his head. Here’s an adorable android who... goodness even knows what the deal is with him. _He_ doesn’t know what the deal is with him. Which is both endearing and completely fascinating, but leads to situations like this, where I sit here with a recalcitrant semi wondering whether he’ll even wake up with all his mental faculties intact.’ He could hear Spot scratching about in a litter-box. ‘Sorry for telling you about my semi. He is a very good kisser, though. I bet you don’t want to hear about that, either, do you? Well, it’s been a minute, so I’ll shut up and see what happens when I press these little bumps again.’

He lined up his fingers, pressed and felt the click. A moment later, he felt the _life,_ for lack of a better word, come back to Data’s body; it hadn’t moved yet, but was no longer an inert thing. Data stirred slightly, then rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling and blinking.

‘Data? How do you feel?’ Julian asked.

‘I... am operating within established parameters... and beyond them, too.’

Spot came pattering back out of the bathroom and hopped up onto the bed, pushing her head insistently under Data’s hand. He lifted it and petted her, looking at her as if amazed. 

‘Spot... my good, pretty cat... I love you.’ His voice trembled very faintly, and he sat up, taking the cat into his arms and kissing the top of her head. ‘I love you. I love you very much.’ Spot mewed and head-butted his chin. 

Julian sat up, realising that he shouldn’t look for any continuation of the earlier fit of passion. ‘That’s wonderful. Congratulations!’

Data raised his head. ‘I am sorry, Julian. I did not mean to ignore you. I am immensely grateful to you.’ There were yellowish tears gleaming in the corners of his eyes. ‘You have changed my life again.’

‘I seem to keep stumbling into doing that.’ 

‘While I was unconscious I dreamed again,’ Data said. He had a sort of radiant look, like one trying to describe a vision. ‘I spoke with my father. He explained that he had always intended me to feel emotion, but because of what happened with Lore, he had developed a hypothesis that emotion was dangerous to androids in the early stages of development. For safety’s sake, my emotions must be almost entirely muted until I was ready for them. My own experiments appear to confirm this. Lore became obsessed with a sense of his own superiority, resentful of humans and willing to harm anyone to achieve his own ends. My daughter, Lal, was gentle and good but could not withstand the stress of intense emotion. I, however, am more mature, and of the three of us have the best chance of successfully integrating emotion into my psyche.’

‘So, like the dream program, the emotions were supposed to come online when you were ready, and we’ve hastened that a bit with our messing around? Wait a moment, though. What about that emotion chip, the thing your brother stole?’

‘I asked my father the same thing. Remember that this is not _actually_ my father of whom we are speaking now, but a simulacrum of him, not unlike a holographic recreation of a once living person. He could not tell why he might, late in life, develop such a device, but suggested that perhaps, in his advanced age, he had become somewhat senile and forgot his plans for my emotional development. Thus, he attempted to create a patch for what was not really a hole.’ Spot butted his chin again and he kissed her on the nose. 

‘How absolutely extraordinary.’

‘I intend to request leave from my duties, while we are here at the station, in order to explore the new possibilities of my condition. Perhaps you will join me for some of that time?’

‘Certainly. I could even arrange cover for some of my duties, if it comes to that. What did you have in mind?’

‘Down, please, Spot. I will play with you later.’ Gently, he deposited Spot on the floor before turning towards Julian, framing his face with his hands. ‘May I try again?’

‘I still wish you would.’

A deep, sweet kiss, and Julian sighed contentedly. ‘You are just lovely. Who taught you that?’

‘It is part of my programming. I have always known these techniques; a broad variety of pleasuring.’

‘Isn’t that strange... that emotions would be muted, but you’d know how to kiss and so forth?’

‘I do not understand it, but perhaps my father felt emotions were not necessary for sexual relationships. This is not a unique viewpoint.’

‘Well, _I_ disagree. Tell me, though, is that what you want? A sexual relationship?’ _Say yes say yes say yes._

‘I would like to try, but now is not the right time.’

‘Because this is so new to you, and you’re only staying a week,’ Julian said, resigning himself to it.

‘Because it is 0800 hours and you will soon have to report for duty, will you not?’

‘Oh God. You’re right. Damn it! I’d better go. Come and meet me right after my shift, though, all right? I’ll be finished at 1700, half past at the latest. Think about what you want to do and we’ll do whatever it is. You’re so, _so_ lovely. Goodbye!’

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a couple of YEARS, I find myself able to add a little more to this, perhaps?

When Julian had gone, Data sat on the side of his bed, quietly marvelling at the newness of the familiar room.  Spot jumped back into his lap and twined about, kneading with her paws and uttering little trilling noises between mewing and purring.  He began petting her, as she had him well trained to do, and was enchanted by how delightful she was in every respect, particularly her little pink toe-pads, of which he had never taken particular notice before.  

There seemed to be a new dimension to his perceptions which was not entirely unfamiliar, but which was far more intense and profound than anything he had been aware of before.  There was additional meaning intrinsic to all stimuli, and he was aware of vastly increased processing in his neural net.  There was no sign, however, of an overload, and it was logical to conclude that he had been designed to operate in this way.

He lay down again, holding Spot, and became aware again of the smell of Julian’s hair and skin on the pillow.  The smells which had always been perceptible were now significant in a strange and thrilling way, inextricably associated with warmth and pleasure and the ardent desire for more, layered with fascination and curiosity and wonder.  He wanted more physical intimacy with Julian, but just as earnestly he wanted a mental intimacy, to know Julian’s mind and to learn what he thought and how he felt about virtually everything.  He put names to feelings as they rushed through him, longing and impatience and eagerness and anticipation.

The next strongest desire he felt was to _tell_ someone what was happening to him and to have the significance of his experience recognised and appreciated.  Julian knew and understood, but as he was not available to discuss and exult in the situation, that was of little use.  The next best candidate seemed obvious.

 

When Deanna Troi reached her office she was surprised to see Data already waiting in the corridor outside.  Most of the crew were on rest and recreation while they were docked at the station, but there were still people whose regular appointments she needed to honour.  Reg Barclay’s neuroses did not take holidays.  Data, however, was not one of them, his next regular session with her being two weeks away.  On top of that, she was getting a very strange impression from him which had nothing to do with psychic empathy and a great deal to do with being an experienced observer of behaviour.  His whole manner was that of someone almost unable to contain his excitement.  She had seen Data on high alert plenty of times, but Data apparently excited was something new.

Before she could say anything he was speaking rapidly.  “Counsellor, I am sorry to disturb you, but I urgently need to speak with you.  Would you have time now?”

“Yes, of course.  I was just going to review some notes before my first session.  Come right in.”

They were scarcely inside before he began to pour out an extraordinary story.  She was struck by his animation as much as by what he said had happened.  He still looked and sounded like _Data,_ of course.  His voice was as soft and precise as usual, if a little more rapid and less measured, and while his facial expressions and body language were more _expressive,_ they were not so broad as to be out of character.  He wasn’t _different_ so much as he was _more._  She still got nothing from him beyond what her human senses could tell her, but those were in agreement that he was telling her the truth.  

“Data, that’s amazing.  Are you all right?”  She put her hands on his shoulders, steadying him and looking into his eyes with a touch of concern, thinking of Lal.  

“I am entirely all right,” he assured her, his eyes shining.  “I believe I am better than I have ever been.  I wanted to tell you; to tell _you.”_

“Then I’m just so happy for you.”  Impulsively, Deanna put her arms around him and hugged him.  “I know we’ll have a _lot_ to talk about as you get used to this.”

“And I know that you will support me as you always have.”  She felt him return the hug and press his cheek against her hair.  “I wished to thank you, too.  I have always been grateful to you in the manner of which I was capable, but what I feel now is greater.  Your kindness and patience have… I do not know how to say it.  At least I can say that you are very important to me, not only as a counsellor but as one of my truest friends.  I know now that I love you, I think as I would love a member of my family.”  He stepped back and looked at her earnestly, his forehead a little creased.  “Is it presumptuous to say that?  Or too hasty?  It seems true to me, though, and important.”

“It’s not presumptuous at all, and it fits perfectly with how I feel about you.”  There was a touch of relief in her happiness.  It was always just a little bit unnerving to talk with someone whose feelings she couldn’t read, and when someone like that hugged you and suddenly told you that he loved you, you could wonder what you had got yourself into.  Being like family to Data was just fine, though.

“There is still so much more to tell you.”

“Then sit down and tell me all about it.”  She led him over to her office sofa.  Usually she would have sat in the chair facing the sofa, but that would have felt too stand-offish in the circumstances.  This was a personal conversation as much as a professional one, so she sat down beside him.  “The strange thing is, I’m not getting any emotional impression from you.  When you were affected by Lore’s emotion chip, I could sense your feelings quite clearly.  The state you’re in now must work differently.”

“Julian and I have some ideas about that,” Data said eagerly.  “We hypothesise that - but I should mention first that Julian is of the greatest importance to the state I am now in.  I think I may be falling in love with him.”

“In love?”

“Yes.  It is a momentous experience.  I hope I am not misinterpreting what I feel, but based on both my reading and my observations of others, I think that is the correct explanation.”

“And have you told him how you feel?”

“Not in those words.  I have confessed my attraction to him, which he reciprocates.”

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong, but how do you know that?”

“I do not think he would have kissed me and embraced me in the manner that he did if he were not at least attracted to me.  He spoke about wanting a more intimate relationship with me, too.  We will meet again this evening after his work, and we will be able to discuss our feelings and intentions in greater detail then.”

Deanna found that she felt a little surprised at Dr Bashir, who, to be fair, she had not even met, but who had already played an important role in Data’s psychological development with the activation of his dream programming.  It seemed careless of him to blithely initiate a romance with someone in Data’s elated yet vulnerable position.  In fact, she had to remind herself that she did not know enough about the man or the situation to justify the disapproval she had started to feel.  It came from feeling protective of Data, she knew.  He was deeply innocent and had a heart of gold, and she wasn’t sure she trusted a man who rushed into these things with that heart.  She reminded herself, too, that Data’s innocence didn’t mean that he was immature or incapable of making his own decisions about relationships.  If he _were_ a member of her family, she would also feel protective of him, but she would know that he was an adult and able to consent.  The consequences of his consent might bring him joy or grief or mixed feelings, but they would be his own consequences and part of his developing body of experience.  It was her role to stand by him and help him to cope with those developments, not to try to shelter him from them.

She knew all these things as a professional and as a friend, but there was still a little voice right in the middle of her that said, “Yes, but if that Dr Bashir seduces Data and breaks his heart, he’ll feel the wrath of a Troi.”

“I hope you will be able to advise me,” Data was saying.  “I have very little experience in these matters and my attempt at a relationship with Lieutenant D’Sora was not a success.  However, I am very hopeful that it will be different this time.   _I_ am different this time.”

“Perhaps not as different as you think,” Deanna said, and as his face began to fall she quickly added, “but I don’t mean that to discourage you.  What I mean is just that your personality is the same - unless you don’t feel that to be the case?”

“I am not aware of any change in my disposition,” Data said carefully, as if he were now monitoring himself for just such alterations.

“I remember that when you were dating Jenna, you created new behavioural subroutines for her that were quite different from your usual behaviour.  Those weren’t very successful, were they?”

“Not at all,” he agreed, looking a little troubled.

“Did she explain to you why she didn’t enjoy them?”

“I think that she may have tried to, but I did not understand her.”

“I can’t speak for her, but based on your descriptions at the time, I think it was because she had wanted to date _you_ but she found herself dealing with this other character that you had manufactured, someone who behaved quite differently.”

“But what else could I have done?”  he protested.

“You could have done what I’m going to recommend that you do with Julian.  Be yourself.  Your normal self.  Don’t try to play the part of a lover, or imitate things you’ve heard other people say, or seen in old movies or read in books.  That isn’t what someone who likes _you_ will want from you.  Instead of changing your behaviour overall, you’ll just be incorporating some new elements into it.”

“Like kissing?  And sex?” he asked earnestly.

“I wouldn’t recommend rushing into sexual activity.  You’re going to be experiencing many new feelings, and you’ll need to allow yourself time to process them.  We can’t predict how it will be for you, but for most humanoids, beginning a sexual relationship is an extremely emotional experience.  Most of those emotions are pleasant and life-enhancing ones, but if you have all of those on top of the feelings you need to get accustomed to just as part of everyday life, it may be more than you can handle at first.  It could become very stressful for you.”  She thought again of Lal, who would never fall in love.

“I understand, but may I at least kiss him?  I want very much to kiss him.”

“That’s interesting.  Can you tell me why you want to?”

“Because it is a very pleasant sensation,” Data said promptly.  “It is a way of expressing my attraction to him and of giving him pleasure, all at the same time.  It is _interesting._  I wish to try every possible variation and to discover how they make me feel, and to hear from him how   _he_ feels.”

“Like an experiment?”

“Not formally.  May I?”

“Data, all I’m doing is giving you my opinion and making suggestions.  I really don’t have any authority to forbid you to kiss someone.”  Deanna had to smile at the idea.  “All these decisions are yours to make.  I would love to talk it over more, but my first appointment of the day is nearly here.  Since you’re not going to see Julian until the end of the day, you have a good opportunity to think carefully about how you feel and what you want to do.  I’m sure you’ll make good choices, too.”

“Thank you.”  While his facial expressions were still rather subtle, Data fairly glowed with pride and satisfaction at her faith in him.  “I have more people to inform, too.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm just doofing around and enjoying Data being happy.  
> Also, the two most gossipy people in this story are definitely Will Riker and Jadzia Dax.

He found Captain Picard in the holodeck, riding a horse through verdant parkland.  He looked concerned when he saw Data approaching, and brought the animal to a halt.  “Nothing wrong, I hope, Mr Data?”

“Nothing is wrong, sir.”  He remembered another occasion when he had interrupted the captain while he was riding, and a humorous comparison occurred to him.  “I have not broken the Prime Directive at all today.”

“I beg your pardon?” Picard asked, his forehead wrinkling.  

Clearly, Data thought, even if he now perceived humour, his delivery needed work.  Perhaps the reference had simply been too obscure; human memory was not as complete or precise as his own, and the incident he recalled had been several years ago.  He decided to let it go for now and delivered his news in simple terms.  He found, to his own surprise, that he felt a certain reluctance to mention to Captain Picard the falling-in-love aspect of his condition, and consequently omitted it. Picard heard him out, nodding thoughtfully.  It seemed to Data to be a good sign that he did not cover his face with his hands.

“Congratulations are in order,” Picard said when Data had finished.  He dismounted and held out his right hand; Data shook it gladly.  “I think we’re all fortunate that this is happening when we have some downtime.  Until we know how your emotions will affect you, I would have some doubts about you serving on the bridge.”

“Do you think they will make me less competent, sir?” Data asked, concerned.  It troubled him a little that the people he had confided in so far had seemed to think chiefly of the possible drawbacks of his new state.  He supposed their worries were informed by precedent, but they tended to dampen his own great happiness.

“Not at all,” Picard said.  “I know you better than that.  Still, you may be rather distracted, don’t you think?”

“True.  Sir, may I ask you for a favour?”

“Ask away.”

“Would you inform the rest of the senior staff of my news?  It seems the most efficient way, and as you are the captain, the most fitting.  So far I have spoken of it only to Counsellor Troi.”

“I’d be happy to.  You haven’t told Geordi, though?”

“He is next.”

“Then cut along and tell him, Data, before he hears of it from someone else!”

 

Despite being on R&R, Geordi turned out to be deep in the Jeffries tubes, adjusting a plasma flow regulator.  He greeted Data with a smile, aimed under his arm as he lay on his side, and a request to be passed a coil spanner.  Data located it in the tool kit at Geordi’s feet and passed it over.

“Good morning, Geordi.”

“Morning, Data.”

“Do you notice anything different about me today?” Data asked hopefully.

“Huh?”  Geordi looked at him again, more attentively.  “Uh… is it your hair?”

“No.”  

“Well, we could play twenty questions, or you could cut to the chase and tell me.”

“I have undergone a momentous upgrade.  Last night Julian and I discovered how to activate my emotional programming.”

“You installed the chip?”  Geordi asked in obvious consternation.  “Data, do you know if it’s safe?  How did you guys get it working again?”

“There was no need for the chip,” Data explained.  “The chip has been what is called a red herring.  I have had emotional programming all this time lying dormant, just like my dream program.  Indeed, we were able to activate it via the dream program.  I am very happy, Geordi, and I hope you will be happy for me too.”  He found that he was smiling as he said it, and that smiling was coming more and more naturally to him.  His natural smile, if he could call it that, was not a broad grin like the first smiles he had attempted, but it was nonetheless sincere.  

Being emotional had not affected his tendency to follow multiple trains of thought simultaneously; while he was speaking to Geordi he was wondering about the anthropological and psychological explanations of why one might instinctively smile with one’s lips together or apart, appreciatively remembering how sweetly Julian smiled, feeling retroactive embarrassment at how his younger self must have looked grinning at people, and compiling a mental ranking of depictions of smiling in the visual arts, on a spectrum from Mona Lisa to Gwynplaine.

“Seriously?”  Geordi rolled up into a sitting position and stared at him.  “I can’t believe I never figured it out.”

“I did not figure it out either, until last night.  It is not surprising.”

“But Julian just waltzes in and makes the breakthrough without even trying?”  Geordi asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“It was truly fortuitous.”  Data tilted his head, puzzled.  “Are you not happy for me?”

“I’m sorry, Data, of course I am.  I guess it just hurts my pride a little.  You know, I see you every day, I probably know more about you than anyone has since your dad - it feels like I should have been able to.”

“Perhaps it is _because_ Julian does not see me every day that he has noticed things about me that others have not.”  Data tried again to frame the matter in a way that might appeal to Geordi.  “I have been looking forward to the experiences we will be able to share as friends; both new experiences and revisiting old ones.  Will that not be fun?”

“Yeah, it will,” Geordi said, smiling at last and clapping him on the shoulder.  “Let me finish up here and we’ll get started.”

The other friend Data wanted to inform in person, and who he was not sure Captain Picard would tell the news, was Guinan.  Accordingly, they went along to Ten Forward where they found that she already knew, and was digging a bottle of real champagne from Earth out of a hidden compartment under the bar.

“Do you have the Jeffries tubes bugged or something?”  Geordi asked her, half-laughing as he took a seat at the bar.

“My eyes and ears are everywhere,” she said, winking.  “I know I shouldn’t reveal how I do it, but it’s pretty straightforward in this case.  Data told the captain, the captain told Commander Riker, and Riker swung by to tell me.  His eyes were twinkling so hard it was blinding.”  She popped the cork of the bottle with practised expertise and filled three flutes.  “Here’s to you, Data.  Congratulations.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Geordi.

They clinked the glasses together and drank.  Data was astonished by the sensation inside his mouth.  He had had champagne before, and various other alcoholic and effervescent drinks, but had never had any opinion of them.  The bubbles prickled his tongue and the roof of his mouth in a way that was simultaneously, strangely, uncomfortable and pleasant.  Abruptly, Dom Pérignon’s apocryphal exclamation, “I am drinking the stars,” which had always baffled him, made perfect sense.  The bubbles did not merely sparkle optically in the glass; they _felt_ sparkly.  He wanted to exclaim himself, but did not want to lose his mouthful of stars, and only emitted a sort of strangled “Mmm!”

“Are you okay?” Geordi asked, looking perturbed.

“Mmm!   _Mmm!”_  He swallowed, reluctantly, and blurted, “This hurts my mouth and I like it!”

“It hurts and you like it?” Geordi repeated.

“No.  I was mistaken to say that it hurts.  I do not think I am experiencing _pain,_ but a sensation which disturbs or discomposes me.   It feels as if something is going wrong, but it is also exhilarating, and it feels _bright._  I have never found language so imprecise and inadequate to describe a phenomenon.”

“I think you’re doing a pretty good job,” said Guinan.  “And champagne is supposed to discombobulate you, in a happy way.”

He took another large swig, his cheeks bulging to contain it, and the others laughed at him - though their tone was affectionate rather than mocking.

“I want to try more drinks.  And to eat things!  What could I eat?”

After a series of experiments which left the whole bar cluttered with assorted dishes and glassware, they had established that Data did not have a sophisticated palate in the slightest.  He adored sweet flavours and creamy or chewy textures. He recoiled from his first taste of a lemon so violently that he fell halfway off his bar stool, and thought pickles were foul.  Green vegetables in general repelled him, and he was glad that he had no nutritional need to eat them.

“Much as I’d like to stay and see you eat your way through the kids’ menu,” Geordi said at last, “I told O’Brien I’d come take a look at his set-up on the station this morning.  You want to come along?”

“Yes, please,” said Data.  Besides the fact that he would enjoy seeing the Chief again, the station meant Julian.  In DS9’s operations centre, he took a polite look at the pit in the floor where O’Brien did most of his work before excusing himself and hastening over to the infirmary.  Julian was just stepping out as he approached the doorway, and he experienced a surge of delight at the sight of him.

“Julian!  I came to ask you if you would like to have lunch together,” he said.  “It occurred to me that we need not wait for the end of the day to see each other.”

Julian had looked pleased to see him, but now his face fell and Data wanted urgently to know why their feelings were out of synch.

“I’m so sorry, Data.”  He reached out and took both Data’s hands in his, and their warmth was comforting.  “I’d love to have lunch with you, but I’ve got a standing lunch date with a friend today.  I had to miss it last week because of an emergency, and I don’t like to leave him in the lurch again.  Are you all right?  You look upset.”

“I am upset,” Data readily agreed.  “I am disappointed and slightly jealous.  It is not an agreeable feeling but it is certainly instructive.”

That seemed to make Julian smile again.  “I like how _interested_ you are in all your feelings, even when they’re disagreeable ones.”

“They are all interesting.  It also interests me that I can simultaneously feel the pleasure of being in your presence and the dismay of knowing that you are going to leave me for someone else.”

“Only for lunch, silly,” Julian said fondly.  “Tell you what.  The minute I finish here, I’ll come over to yours and we can have the whole evening together with no one else.  Take this to sustain you till then, all right?”  He leaned in and kissed Data’s cheek, realising as he did that he wasn’t quite comfortable enough with the whole man-kissing business to go for the lips in a public place like the Promenade.  It was still enough to earn one of Data’s absurdly cute little smiles, which made him need to kiss the other cheek to match.

“All right.  Then I will see you tonight.”  Data turned and walked away decisively.  As Julian watched him leave, feeling a little giddy, he felt a hand suddenly grip his arm and turned to meet a gleeful Jadzia Dax grin.

“Tell.  Me.   _Everything.”_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heart-to-positronic brain over chocolate sundaes.

Having finished her last appointment of the day agreeably early, Deanna repaired to Ten Forward for refreshments.  Most people looking for entertainment were trying options new to them over on the station, so the place was very quiet, empty except for a yeoman behind the counter, reading a novel, and Data, sitting at a table and eating what looked very much like her favourite chocolate sundae.

“Hello, Data.  May I join you?”

“Certainly.”

She sat down opposite him and signalled to the yeoman that she would like the same.  “Is eating part of the new Data?”

“I enjoy eating,” Data said, sounding rather proud of the fact.  “Before it was not possible for me to like or dislike the chemical composition of food and drink which humans perceive as taste.  Now it is.”

“Well, I commend you on your taste in desserts.”  Her own sundae arrived and she paused to admire it before spoiling its beauty with the spoon.

“I am trying your method of treating an unhappy mood.”  

“Oh?  How is it working for you?”

“I am not sure that it is.  I am still feeling my disappointment that Julian was unable to join me for lunch, and my slight resentment of whoever had already engaged him for that meal.  At the same time, though, I am enjoying the ice cream.”

“Well, it can’t actually take away unhappy feelings, but it does offset them pretty well.”  She set aside the chocolate-dipped cherry on top to save for last.

“Will you be disappointed,” Data asked earnestly, “if I say that I think I prefer strawberry ice cream to chocolate?”

“Oh, no.  This way, if there’s only enough chocolate for one person, I won’t have to fight you for it.”

“I would not _fight_ you for ice cream.”

“I was only joking - “

“But I might bicker with you over a doughnut,” he went on, and looked so pleased with his small joke that Deanna laughed as much from fondness as from amusement.

“I’ll make a note not to stand between you and doughnuts.”  She paused to appreciate the vein of hot fudge she had just hit.  “You seem to be dealing with your disappointment quite well.”

“I understand that it is important to be able to accept disappointment graciously.  I understand also that jealousy is an unbecoming emotion.”

“It’s one nearly all of us feel at times, though.  It takes an extremely secure person to never worry that a friend or partner may prefer someone else.  Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“He promised that he would come to see me tonight, however, and that we can spend the whole evening together alone.”

“And you know, because he kept to his prior commitment, that he’s someone who keeps his promises,” she pointed out.

“That is true.”  Data brightened and took a large spoonful of mousse from the middle of his sundae.  He appeared to swallow it with some dificulty.  “I believe the idiom for my present problem is that my eyes were bigger than my stomach.”

“So you get full up, too?”

“The inner compartment that takes the place of a stomach is full, and I do not wish to overflow.  I will need to flush my system if I am to share dinner with Julian.”

“I think that’s probably a good idea.”

With clear reluctance, Data set down his spoon and pushed the dish away slightly.  He looked thoughtful for a moment, then seemed to make up his mind to broach a subject.  “Counsellor, I am experiencing a dilemma.”

“Yes?” 

“I told Geordi my news not long after I spoke with you.”

Deanna simply nodded, both because she didn’t want to interrupt him and because she had just found the chocolate mousse core of her own sundae.

“He was pleased for me,” Data said.

“But?”

“But I believe he may have felt a degree of jealousy, just from his response to the fact that Julian had helped me.  Because I wanted him to be happy with me, I refrained from mentioning the romantic element of my relationship with Julian.”

“Because you wanted him to be happy?”

“I think,” Data said after a pause, “that what I really mean is that I was afraid he would react negatively to that fact.  I do not understand why he should, but I believe I experienced a degree of intuition.  Do you think I was right or wrong?  I am unaccustomed to having intuition at all.”

“I do think it’s possible that he would be jealous or possessive of you as his best friend,” Deanna said.  “It’s also possible, though, that he might be able to cope with those feelings without taking them out on you.  The only way to know for certain is to tell him.”

“But will he not be angry with me for deceiving him in the first place?”

“Again, it’s possible.  Geordi has been your friend for a long time, though, and that friendship has survived greater trials than this.  A lot of people, not just you, would feel some shyness or hesitation about announcing a brand-new relationship.  They want to wait until it’s well established before they say anything, or they want a little time to enjoy it privately before they share it with anyone else.”

“If I offered him those explanations, though, I would be deliberately lying, not merely withholding information.”

“That’s true, and I’m not advising you to lie.  The longer you go without telling him something important about your life, the more likely he is to feel hurt or deceived when you finally do.  I am, however, giving you permission to wait until tomorrow to tell him.  Talk to Julian this evening about your feelings and what you hope for in a relationship, if you decide to pursue one.  If both of you can agree that you want to go ahead, try talking to Geordi about it then.”

Data’s brow crumpled.  “Do you think we might not agree?”

“Oh, Data, I’m not trying to sow seeds of doubt.  I only mean that it’s not set yet - and that it _is_ very important to talk about your needs and wishes from the outset.  People don’t all have the same expectations of a relationship, and not making them explicit in the beginning can lead to misunderstandings and hurt feelings later on.”

“I see.  But what if I do not know what to expect, or what I will need?”

“Then tell him that up front.  You are exploring very new territory and you and he need to think about whether he’s prepared to do that with you.  It may not all be joyful discoveries.  Sooner or later, something will make you angry, or you’ll be afraid, or you’ll experience a loss and grieve.  You don’t have to deal with any of that alone, but who your companions are will depend on what kind of commitment they’re prepared to make.”

“I do not want to be angry,” Data said.  “It is a feeling that I associate with Lore.  He was always angry, even when he was happy as well.”

“Anger can be hard to deal with, but it’s something you need to accept along with all the other emotions.  I’m afraid you can’t pick and choose.”

“Perhaps with the proper adjustments, though -”  His eyes lit up, seeing it as a problem of engineering or programming.

“Would you be learning and growing as much as you want to then?  Would you gain any more understanding of humans?  Because anger is an important part of our psychology.”

He sighed.  “I take your point.”

Deanna reached over and patted his hand.  “I know this is a lot to take in.  Believe me, you’re doing very well.  Allow yourself time to absorb and process all this.  I know you’re used to processing vast amounts of information in the twinkling of an eye, but I suspect emotions are going to take you longer.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And there goes the rating, because now this is pornography. Tra-laaaa!

Data had some difficulty in preparing for Julian’s visit.  It was easy enough to make sure that he himself was presentable, without any traces of food in his system that could begin to spoil and produce an unpleasant smell.  After that, he began to fret, not without a certain secondary pleasure in the fact of being capable of fretting.  He needed to be himself, as Counsellor Troi had advised, but it seemed remiss to make no special preparations.  Should he try to make his quarters look romantic, perhaps with candles?  Should he greet Julian with music or flowers or drinks?  Should he be dressed like Sherlock Holmes?  

With time to spare, he trialled several possibilities.  Spot quickly made it clear that she did not approve of candles and considered them fair game to knock over as quickly as he could put them up.  It was fortunate that their flames were only holographic.  He tried locking her in the bathroom, but she mewed so loudly and persistently that he realised it would act as a deterrent to conversation, let alone intimacy.  When he let her out again, she ran over to the sofa and began sharpening her claws on it vigorously, staring at him defiantly with her ears back.  He surprised himself and offended her by laughing at her, and she ran away to contemplate her grievances under his bed.

Next he tried flowers, but was forced to conclude that they did not suit his style.  Jenna had called his quarters Spartan, and while he thought that was an overstatement, particularly when viewed in light of her own preference for clutter, he would concede that his tastes had always been more formal and simple.  (He also had to consider his guardianship of a cat that liked to knock things over.  Spot had contrived to break the sculpture Jenna had given him after a few weeks, even though the floor was carpeted and thus fairly soft.)  A vase of flowers on the table was agreeable, and he had learned a good deal about floral arrangement from Keiko, but a massed display seemed excessive.  On the other hand, if there was only one vase then it was not clear that he had done anything out of the ordinary for the occasion.

He put all the flowers back into the replicator, apart from the small bowl of yellow roses and bells of Ireland that had been on the coffee table originally, and reconsidered.  Music was widely considered romantic, and he could competently play several instruments, but that would mean that at least his hands and potentially also his mouth were occupied when he would like them all to be available to Julian.  He also had not the faintest idea of what genres of music Julian preferred, and while he had not yet worked out his own preferences, he knew they could be strong enough to create or destroy the desired mood.

At this point, Spot began to gag loudly under the bed and he had to go and comfort her and clean up the hairball vomit.  She mewed so piteously that he experienced pangs of parental guilt and spent some time stroking her and playing with her.  This went on longer than he had intended, because he became completely absorbed in how pretty she was, how cleverly she used her paws, and how her eyes looked like little glass bubbles when seen from the side.  He was on his hands and knees swishing a feather wand from side to side for her when the doorbell chirped and he called out, “Come in,” automatically.

The door slid back, he heard Julian say, “Hallo.  What on earth are you doing?” and was caught unawares by his first experience of embarrassment.  He had always thought expressions like “wishing the ground would open up and swallow you” were confusing and melodramatic, but if he could have been beamed away somewhere at that second he would have jumped at the chance.  

“I - I am looking ridiculous and undignified when I had hoped to make a more favourable impression.”  He sat back on his heels, wondering if he could ask Julian to go out and come in again.

Julian chuckled, crossed the room and dropped down to sit on the floor beside him.  “The impression’s already made.  Don’t worry.”  He leaned in and kissed Data’s cheek, then turned to chirrup at Spot, who condescended to sniff at his fingers before pointedly losing interest and walking away.

“It may not be apparent,” Data said, pointing to the receding cat, “but she is warming up to you.”  He turned back to Julian and was agreeably flustered by the way he was gazing at him.

“I’m sorry about before.  I’ve had you on my mind all day, and I was no good for conversation at lunch anyway.  I just kept thinking about _this.”_ That meant another kiss, soft and warm against his lips, setting up a delicious tingling sensation.  Data wrapped his arms around Julian’s shoulders and held him close to kiss him again.  He realised he was probably going to be as greedy about kisses as he was about sweets, and kisses could not fill him up, unless of course he swallowed a great deal of saliva in the process.

“So how did you fill your day?” Julian asked him when he came up for air.

“Chiefly with talking and eating.  My perception of food has entirely changed.”

“Really?  I regret not taking you to lunch even more now.  I could have seen you enjoying all those pleasures for the first time.”

“There are still many that I have not yet tried.  Besides, you have introduced me to _this_ pleasure.”  He secured another long, deep kiss, feeling that he had managed to be remarkably smooth just then.  He could feel Julian smiling as the kiss began, so he must be pleased.

“Mmm.  Well then, what do you want to do tonight?”

“It is hard to say.  There is so much, and some things are mutually contradictory.  I want to kiss you, but I also want to simply look at your face.  It is such a beautiful face, especially your eyes.  And it is so strange but so good to perceive beauty.  I have understood aesthetic principles for a long time, and have developed preferences of my own, but I had not seen _beauty_ until I woke after our shared dream and saw you.”

“Data!  That is unquestionably the sweetest compliment anyone has given me in my life.”

“Was it?”

“Oh, God, look at your face light up.  How _can_ you be so cute?  Come here.”  Although he said “come here” as he placed his hands on Data’s cheeks, Julian moved himself closer, clambering in to straddle Data’s lap.  Data was delighted, not only with the praise and the closeness and the kissing, but with the awareness that he himself was growing more passionate.  He ran his hands over Julian’s slim, firm body, eagerly feeling his arms, back, hips and thighs, finding that he particularly enjoyed rubbing the thighs and eliciting a soft moan.  It occurred to him that this was probably the sort of thing Deanna had been warning him not to rush into, but it was easy to set that aside when this felt so good and was so fascinating.  Julian’s skin was growing perceptibly warmer and he was beginning to breathe faster.  His hands slipped under Data’s uniform top again, tugging the snug-fitting undershirt out of his waistband and sliding underneath to stroke first his back and then his belly.

“Tell me more about how this feels for you,” he breathed against Data’s cheek, before moving to kiss his neck above the high collar.

“It is very hard to know how to describe it,” he replied.  “These are all tactile sensations that I have had before, but just as I can now see beauty, I can now feel pleasure in them.  It is difficult to describe the pleasure, too.  I am conscious of significantly more intense activity in the affected sensory circuits, and they are connecting to areas of my neural net with which they do not normally… no, with which they did not interface in the past.  It feels _good_ and I want _more._ It feels how strawberries taste.  Everywhere you touch me feels the way my tongue does if I drink champagne.  Julian!  Stop.”

“Why?”  Julian raised a flushed face to look into his own, and stilled his hands.  “What’s the matter?”

“I think I am getting an erection.”

“Oh?”  He looked into Data’s lap and his smile bloomed.  “I’d say you are, yes.  Very nice.”

“This has never happened spontaneously before.”

“No?”  Julian was still smiling, but his voice was sympathetic.  “Do you feel a bit nervous?”

“Yes.  My penis feels strange.”

“I remember mine did too, the first few times, before I got comfortable with it.  Of course, I was much, much younger than you are now.  Um.  I wonder if I might be going a bit fast for you.”

“I do not want you to stop altogether.  I should have said ‘pause.’  It is growing more comfortable now.”

“Good.  But you’ve never had an erection before?”

“Not spontaneously,” Data corrected him.  “I have intentionally made it erect before - I have tried to masturbate, and I once had sexual intercourse with a woman.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“I enjoyed being able to please her.  I took pride in that.  It made me feel very close to human.  I did not experience physical pleasure.” 

“I can understand that… that pride in giving your partner pleasure.  It’s really something to see and feel them coming and know it’s because of you.”  Julian’s hand began to move again, slowly, his fingers slipping inside Data’s waistband to stroke lower on his belly.  “I mean, I’d love to make _you_ come.”  They reached the waist of his underwear and slipped under that too.  “Especially for your first time.”

“Please pause.”

“Too much?”

“No… no, this is good, but it is somewhat overwhelming.  I need pauses to acclimatise.”

“Good point.  I’ve got to remember how new this is for you.  I tell you what.”  He moved his hands to Data’s shoulders, leaving the top of his uniform rucked up under his arms.  “You set the pace.  I won’t do anything without you asking me to.  We won’t go any further or faster than you want.  And you can always ask me to stop or go back at any point.  I promise.”

“Thank you.  Hug me and kiss me, please.”  As they kissed, he could feel Julian carefully controlling himself.  Each time his hands began to wander he brought them back, keeping his arms around Data’s shoulders.  “Should I keep my hands still too?”

“Mmm… no.  I like the way you’re stroking me.”

“May I ask you to do _anything?”_

Julian laughed again, a low, warm, indulgent sound.  “Anything you like.”

“Will you - or may I start undressing you?”

“Abso- _lute_ -ly.”

“I am unfamiliar with the new uniforms.”

“There’s a hidden zip here.”  Julian guided his hand to the notch in the front of his jumpsuit, and when he had found the tab of the zip, let him pull it down.  He pushed the stiffly padded blue shoulders back and down, then slid the sleeves down Julian’s long arms.  The new undershirt had longer sleeves than his own and he needed some help, again, to get Julian out of it.  Julian pulled it over his head himself and threw it onto the couch behind them.  “Want me to help you off with yours?” he asked.

“For now, only the top half.  Please.  The zip is in the back.”

“I know - I used to wear one of these.”  He unzipped it easily, pulled the top off and threw it to join his undershirt.  “I’m too young to have worn the one-piece before that.”

“They were very tight.  I understand the redesign was in part due to persistent complaints of discomfort.  Will you take off my T-shirt as well?”

“Yes, please.  Oh, look at these arms.”

“Do you like my arms?”  Data raised them over his head to let Julian pull the shirt up and off.

“Very much.  Tight T-shirt sleeves suit them, but so does nudity.  Sorry, didn’t mean to pull your head off.”  The neck of the shirt had caught under Data’s nose and Julian twisted and tugged it off with some difficulty.  “Data, this is very important.”

“What?”  He lifted a hand to smooth his hair, but Julian took his wrist to stop him.

“Be very careful who you let see you with your hair ruffled like this, because it renders you devastatingly attractive.  Why on earth do you comb it back so severely?”

“For simplicity and to comply with regulations.”

“It’s probably safe if only I see you.”  Julian kissed him again, pressing close to him, skin to skin.  

“Please pause.”  

“You’re trembling.  Are you all right?”

“Yes, I am.  I am only very excited.  Besides, I want time to look at you.”

“I think I’m more impressive with my clothes on,” Julian said sheepishly, but he rocked back a little to give Data a clearer view.

“I still think you are very beautiful.”  He placed one hand flat against Julian’s chest, feeling his strong heartbeat and appreciating the contrast between his pearl-white skin and Julian’s golden brown. Julian closed his eyes, leaning into his palm, and the corners of his mouth curled sweetly.  It was easy then to stroke his skin, to rub his chest with both hands and to investigate his nipples.

“All right, be careful there, I’m ticklish,” Julian said, biting his lip.  “Sorry, better if you don’t.”  He took Data’s hands in his own and moved them lower.

“You do not like me to touch you there?”

“Not much.”

“I will remember.  Julian?”

“Yes?”

“Would you be comfortable lying down with me?”

“Very comfortable.  More comfortable on the couch or your bed than the floor, of course.”

“I am sorry.  I have been a poor host.”

“You’ve been anything but.  I’ve felt very welcome.  So what would you like to do?”

Data hesitated a moment, then asked, “If we go to bed but I… have difficulty, will you be dissatisfied?”

“If you have difficulty, I’ll try to help you, and if it’s not a difficulty we can overcome right away, I’ll understand and I’ll wait.  But I have to tell you, Data, I think everything’s going to be all right.  Actually, I think it’s going to be pretty wonderful.”  He got to his feet, a little awkwardly, and held out his hand to help Data up.  “Shall we?”

“Yes.”  Once he was up, though, he felt the need to put his arms around Julian’s waist and kiss him again.  Julian wrapped his own arms around his shoulders and pressed up to him chest-to-chest, his tongue slick and warm against Data’s.  He felt fabric sliding against his legs and looked down to see that Julian’s jumpsuit had slipped off his narrow hips and dropped to his ankles.

“Believe it or not,” Julian said, his lips trembling with suppressed laughter, “I didn’t do that on purpose.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, it gives me the problem of untangling my pants from my boots before I can walk.”

“Allow me, then.”  Data bent, scooped one arm behind Julian’s legs and straightened up to carry him.  Julian lost his struggle not to laugh and started giggling helplessly.

“I feel bloody ridiculous,” he protested.  “I’m not a princess.”

“Shall I put you down?”

“No, no!  I demand my ride to the bed now!”  He slung one arm around Data’s shoulders and pointed bedward with the other.  “Onward!”

It was not far, and Data set him down gently in the middle of the bed before getting on beside him.  He wrapped his arms around him and began to kiss him, then felt Julian grip the back of his waistband and haul him over to straddle him.  He had not quite expected to be in this position yet, but feeling Julian pull him into place made him feel thrillingly wanted.  Julian was carefully keeping his hands at the small of his back, but he could feel the long fingers stretching, spreading and kneading.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Increasingly aroused.  Is there an upper limit for this kind of emotion?”

“Different for different people.”  Julian tilted up his chin and kissed Data on the nose.  “Penis still feeling strange?”

“Yes, but more pleasantly so now.  How is yours?”

“Pretty excited.  If you want to see or touch, be my guest.”

“I am very curious.  It will be my first opportunity to touch one other than my own.” Currently it was visible as a bulge in Julian’s underwear, curving over towards his left.  He laid his hand on it lightly, then held it more firmly, feeling the shape and warmth of it while Julian sighed contentedly.  It felt very similar to his own, but while his own skin remained dry he could feel that Julian was perspiring slightly; the fabric of his underwear was warm and a little damp.  Eagerly, he pulled it down to see.

“Now _I_ want to make a good impression.”

“I like it very, very much.  May I touch it and try to please you?”

“Please do.  Ooh… oh, God, it really does feel like you’ve done this before.”

“I have not, but I know what to do, in theory.”

“In practice, too.  Oh, your hands… wait, Data, are they _vibrating?”_

“I will stop that if you do not like it, but I thought -”

“I like it, I like it, I do - I just wasn’t expecting it!  Oh, kiss me too.”  As Data did, Julian’s fingers combed into his hair, and he felt a moment’s apprehension that a panel would pop free if he pressed on the wrong place.  It seemed to be safe for the moment, and Julian’s hands travelled down the back of his neck to his shoulders, then down over his back to clutch at his buttocks.  Julian was moving his hips rhythmically, pushing into his hand and moaning with greater urgency.

“Is this good?”

“It’s _so_ good.  Please don’t stop.  You’re bringing me so close.   _So_ good.  You want me to come for you, right?”

“Yes.”  Julian was panting so heavily now that he thought it was best to stop kissing him and let him breathe, and besides, he wanted to watch his face and the beautiful expressions of uninhibited joy that flickered across it.  He varied his stroke and Julian gasped in delight.

“Like that!  Keep going like _that.”_ The thrusting of his hips became frantic and he bit his lip.  “Ah - yes…”  He grunted and sighed, his cheeks flushed red, his penis twitched and Data felt a warm, wet spurt in his palm.  He slowed his hand, not wanting to hurt Julian with too much stimulation when he was sensitive.  He looked perfectly contented, though, his whole body softly relaxing.  He arched his back one last time, wriggling his hips before going limp.  He blinked dreamily and smiled up at Data.  “I hope there’s no doubt in your mind about how wonderful you just made me feel.”

“I would like to feel it for myself, but it was clear from your reaction that you were happy.”

“Mmm.”  Julian stretched languorously, nudged Data over onto his side and slung one leg over his, or tried to do so, having forgotten that his jumpsuit was still around his ankles.  He laughed at his clumsiness and sat up to take off his boots and finish undressing.  Data lay with his head on the pillow, feeling uncertain about his next steps but enjoying the view of Julian’s smooth brown back.  His hand was still sticky with semen and he sniffed it curiously before tasting with the tip of his tongue.  It was a taste he thought he could tolerate when necessary, but not one he would seek out.  It was strange to think that he was consuming Julian’s genetic material, and he wiped it off on the sheet behind the pillows.

Julian dropped his last sock to the floor and asked over one shoulder, “Do you mind if I use your loo?  I tend to need to pee after.  Once I’ve taken care of that, I’ll have no distractions from taking care of you.”

“Please do.”  While Julian was gone, he quickly finished undressing and got into bed, enjoying his sense of impatience.   _I am impatient!  I am full of desire and excitement, and I am desired._  That was wonderful to contemplate.  Contemplation paled beside actual experience, though, and he was glad that Julian returned in short order.  He emerged from the bathroom smiling, and climbed onto the bed, crawling closer to Data on hands and knees to kiss him.

“Anything on under there?” he asked, laying one hand on the sheet over Data’s belly.

“Not any more.”

“I’m curious.  Do you feel any kind of shyness or modesty about your body?  Keeping it covered, I mean?”  He lay down on his side, facing Data, one arm around his waist and the other propping up his own head.

“My programming includes a mild inhibition to ensure I understand it is inappropriate to be naked in most situations.  My mother told me it was necessary to add this, because without it I did not see the point of putting on clothes and it caused some trouble socially.”

“You didn’t tell me you’d got a _mother,”_ Julian said, his eyebrows going up.

“This is, perhaps, not the best context in which to discuss her.  I will gladly tell you all about her later.”  He wriggled closer to Julian, enjoying the smell of his warm skin.  It had become saltier with his perspiration and there was a note of onion to it.

“Your priorities are in very good order.”  Julian wrapped his leg over Data’s, the way he had tried but failed to do before.  “I just want to be sure you’re comfortable.  Not feeling shy or as if you need to cover yourself up.  But if you do, it’s all right.  We can stay under the covers, or turn down the lights, or whatever makes it comfortable for you.”

“That is kind but unnecessary.  I am happy to be seen by you.  I confess I was not sure what use to make of the bedclothes.  However…”

“However?”

“I would like to move step by step.  I am still acclimatising to the intensity of lying here with you.”

“Thanks for reminding me.  I was forgetting I said I’d only do what you asked me to.”  Julian began to draw his leg back.

“You may continue to hold me like this, though.  Being embraced by you is comforting as well as arousing.”

“Oh, _good.”_  Julian smiled warmly.

“I like the way the corners of your eyes crinkle when you smile at me.  I like your long, soft eyelashes.  I like your high forehead and the shape of your lips.  I feel that I am expressing myself poorly.”

“I don’t think so.  And I like the shape of _your_ lips, too, and your profile, which will always remind me of a bird now, by the way.  Something wistful about it, too.  Full of wist.  Whatever wist is.”

“The etymology is unclear and the meaning has evolved, but the present sense of longingly pensive or musing is attested by 1714.”  He stroked Julian’s cheek, and he turned his head to kiss Data’s palm, then looked mildly contrite.  

“Sorry!  I’m pretty bad at this not-doing-things-unless-I’m-asked thing.”

“I will ask you to do something, in that case.  I feel ready to proceed.  Please, kiss my neck and stroke my chest.”

“Gladly.”

Julian’s mouth was warm and wet, and his hands were sweating, so that they felt similar as they slid over Data’s skin.  The kisses were soft and light at first, the pressure and suction increasing bit by bit, working around the base of his throat.  He could feel Julian’s breath gusting against his skin too, and hear the little sounds he made, low and eager, too soft to be called grunts but coming from the same vocal register.

“Will you k-kiss lower?”  He was surprised to find his voice shaking, but vast amounts of his processing capacity were being taken up by physical sensory input.

“Mmm?  I’m just seeing if I can give you a love-bite.  No?  Damn.”

“But I liked how it felt.  Do it again, lower, and a little harder.”

“Mmm?  Like that?”

“Yes… yes, that is sweet but also sharp.  Yes…”

“I may not like this, but see if you do.”  Julian’s tongue flicked across his nipple and made him shiver with pleasure.

“Yes, yes, I do!  Keep licking, please.”

“Mmm.  I quite like you telling me what to do, you know.”

“Then please pinch them next.”

“You sure?”

“I want to try.   _Yes._ Oh!”

“Didn’t expect you to like pain.”

“This is just a little pain, yes?”

“That’s right.  Have you noticed your nipples have got all stiff?”  Julian rubbed a fingertip over one of them, making it tingle again.

“They usually do that in cold temperatures.”

“Yet another fascinating little realistic detail of you - and one only I know about!”

“I am afraid not.  In the tight one-piece uniform it was very visible.  I think that may have been another reason for the complaints.”

“No, that was when you were cold, right?  So only I know that they get like this when you lick them and pinch them.”

“You are right.  That is very pleasing.  Oh… please keep licking there, but stroke my belly too.  That is very, _very_ sweet.”  Julian’s hand circled so that his fingers brushed under the edge of the sheet and back up, and Data put his own over it to guide it lower, rubbing under his navel.

“Data,” Julian said, slightly muffled.  “You’ve got a tummy button.”

“Would I not look odd without one?”

“I just wanted you to know I noticed, and I appreciated it.”

“Julian?”

“Mmm?”

“I think I feel ready for you to touch my penis.  Is that all right?”

“You just feel ready?”

“No, I _want_ you to touch my penis.”

“Such nice, precise requests.  I’ll touch it however you like.  May I have a look first?”

“Of course.”  He pushed the covers down, although he felt very slightly shy about it, whether from programmed inhibition or because it seemed very important for Julian to like this part of him in particular.  He saw Julian’s eyes widen, and hoped urgently that it was a good sign.  His thoughts were completely overwhelmed as Julian cupped his hand under the shaft of his erection, holding it loosely, and without any conscious volition on his part, his hips jerked forward to push into Julian’s palm.  It was as startling as it was thrilling, and he made an inarticulate sound.

“Is that good?”

“Oh… oh…”

“Do you want a pause?  I can just keep my hand here while you get used to it.”

“Please.  And talk.”  

“I _would_ get tongue-tied when you _tell_ me to talk.  Um.  Oh, I like the look on your face, and the way you rock your head on the pillow, and the little mouth-shapes you’re making.”

“I love this.  I _love_ this.”

“It would be terrible if you didn’t.  Getting comfortable?”

“Almost.”

“That’s good.  I’m so curious about your cock.  Everything else is so naturalistic, but this is kind of… idealised?  Such a perfect shape, and so smooth.  It’s like a sculpture.”

“Does it seem artificial?”  Data asked anxiously.

“It seems beautiful.”

“I do not want to appear - fake.”

“There is _nothing_ fake about you.  It just looks like somebody said, let’s have all the nice things about a cock and nothing else.  Look at this upward curve, for example - that’s just right for rubbing the G-spot, or the prostate for that matter.  I have to tell you, I’m a better pitcher than a catcher, but I really want to know how it’ll feel inside me.  And _there’s_ my Data, with that sweet little smile.  Was that a little self-esteem boost?”

“I think so.”

“You weren’t worrying that I wouldn’t like it because of that, were you?”

“I was uncertain.  You have expressed such admiration of my more naturalistic features that it seemed possible that you would be disappointed.”

“Absolutely not.  Data?”

“Yes?”

“Just wanting to understand.  You tried masturbating at some point, but it didn’t feel anything like this?”

“Nothing like this,”  Data said fervently.

“So no excitement, no pleasure, no orgasm?”

“Only some friction and consequent warmth.”

“Well, I think you need that experience, don’t you?”

“Do you think it is important?”

“Very important.  And I’d enjoy seeing you do it.”  Julian nuzzled at his cheek.  

“I will try, then.”  Touching himself was not quite as overpowering as _being_ touched, perhaps because he could not take himself by surprise, but the sensation still made him quiver, and it helped to have Julian’s arms around him.  “It is so _strong.”_ His pleasure and his impatience both spurred him to rub faster and the half-involuntary motion of his hips returned.  “I - I need to pause.”

“Are you sure?  You looked like you were having a pretty good time.  You were even breathing faster.”  

“Was I?  I am breathing normally now.”

“You went back to normal pretty quickly, but you were definitely speeding up.”

“Then I want to continue!”  He was aware of his breathing now, and it fed his excitement until his feelings surged to the point where he had to pause, leaning his head on Julian’s shoulder.  The panting would not stop, and when he started again it was an even shorter time before he stopped with a groan.

“Data,” Julian said gently, “why do you keep stopping?  You seem to be so happy until you do.”

“I am concerned about being overwhelmed,” Data admitted.  “I do not know what would happen to me.”

“The thing is, I think you keep cutting off just at the point where you’re about to get off… and it’s sort of the point of an orgasm that it overwhelms you.”

“You think I should not stop?”

“What are you afraid will happen if you don’t?”

“Something unknown and unpredictable for which I am not prepared.”

“If that did happen, I would take care of you.  On the other hand, what if you just come and it’s lovely?”  

Data hesitated, but he knew he was already yielding.  He wanted to experience this more than he feared anything going wrong, and Julian’s arms were warm around him.  He began to stroke himself again, the stimulus overwhelming all other inputs, every circuit, every pulse of energy in his system dedicated to frantic pleasure.  His breathing grew heavier still and his body trembled.  He almost lost his nerve at the point of climax, his hand shaking, but he was there and it was rapturous.  For a short time he seemed to be dreaming, his mind and body a bursting starfield, and then he knew that he was awake and intact, lying on his bed with Julian kissing his forehead and stroking his back.

“All right?”  Julian asked.

“Yes… yes, I am.”

“Worth it?”  A fond and indulgent smile.

_“Yes.”_

“I’m proud of you, you know.  Formal congratulations on your first orgasm.”

“You said, though, that you wanted to give me that.”

“Oh, I think I was being a bit greedy there.  It’s nicer if the first is for yourself, don’t you think?  And I can still give you a good second or third, or somewhere in the prestigious low numbers, anyway.”

“The feeling of relaxation and peace now is remarkable, particularly in contrast to how excited I was just before.”

“Isn’t it?  Feel like you could drift off to sleep?”

“I do not think I will drift, but I like the idea of sleeping beside you now.”

“Time to use the bedclothes, then.”  Julian pulled the covers over both of them and snuggled close.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fluffy smut and smutty fluff.

It was a short nap rather than a full night’s sleep.  Data set himself to wake after an hour, and although he tried to get up without waking Julian, their legs were so intertwined that it was not possible.  

Julian rubbed his eyes with the heel of one hand and scrunched up his face, feeling drowsy.  “Why’re you getting up?”

“To pick up our clothes and to wash off the ejaculate.”  There was a spattered streak of it across his belly, dried to a sticky texture now.

“I suppose that’s a valid reason - and I’m hungry, anyway.”  Julian sat up and rested his elbows on his knees.  “You don’t have to pick up my things, though.”

“I prefer to do this,” Data explained, shaking out and folding the crumpled blue and black jumpsuit.  “I do not like to have a mess in my quarters and this will discourage Spot from sleeping on them.  Despite my best efforts, I find it is necessary to brush my uniform down before going on duty.  There is always cat hair on it somewhere.”

“Fussbudget,” Julian said affectionately, watching him with profound aesthetic appreciation.  “I was a bit surprised about you ejaculating, actually, but there you go, realism.  It doesn’t smell like semen, though.  Smells more sort of… honeyish, almost.  Which is preferable, really.  Do you know where it comes from?”

“I have an internal reservoir.  It is, of course, only cosmetic.  I am able to release it at will, and I believe it is intended to act as a lubricant where necessary.  I have analysed its composition, and it is water-based and hypoallergenic.”  He began to stack the folded clothes inside the wardrobe.  Although the door had been closed, Spot was already in there, curled up in a cat bed that occupied a corner shelf.  She yawned, shook her head and jumped down to the floor with a thump.

“Talk about convenient,” Julian said, thinking, not for the first time, that Data’s creator must have been quite a strange person, but nothing if not detail-oriented. “Can I have my underpants back?  I’m comfortable here but I don’t feel quite right wandering into your living room to use the replicator in the nude.”

“Would you like to borrow my dressing gown?”  He unhooked the hanger from the wardrobe rail and offered it to Julian, along with the underwear, as he swung his legs out of the bed.

“I think you mean Sherlock Holmes’ dressing gown.  Thank you - I feel very rich and splendid in it.”  Julian slipped it on and tied the sash.  “Go and have your wash, and I’ll arrange a bit of a dinner for us.”  He framed Data’s face with his hands and kissed him softly.  “All right?”

“All right,” Data said, his smile small but his face fairly glowing with happiness.  There was a pointed mew at their feet and Spot head-butted Data’s shins.  “Spot will also want dinner.  I believe it may help to ingratiate you with her if you feed her.  Request water and feline nutritional supplement eight.”  He went off to the bathroom humming, and Julian looked down at Spot.  She looked back at him sternly.

“Well now.  Do you want some dinner?  Come on, then.”  He went through to the main room, found the replicator and ordered the water and cat food, but Spot remained stubbornly aloof.  He called to her.  Through the archway he could see her jump up on the bed and settle down to sleep squarely in the middle; reclaiming her territory, he supposed.

“I’ll leave it here for you, then,” he said, assuming she understood, and turned his attention to the more important question of dinner with Data.  He had been talking about champagne, so that was clearly on the menu, and strawberries, which took care of dessert.  He was fairly hungry, but with his hopes for the rest of the evening, he didn’t think a heavy meal would be wise.  He felt like a treat, though, so he asked for the particularly fancy sushi platter and sat on the couch picking at it leisurely.  When Data emerged, he had put his underwear and T-shirt back on, and he must have brushed his hair, because it was sleek against his head again.  

He took an avid interest in the sushi, though he turned out to dislike all the fishy pieces except for ebi nigiri.  He pronounced tamagoyaki, unagi, kani and inari nigiri palatable, and reacted with utter disgust to salmon roe, going so far as to wipe his tongue with a napkin.

“Clearly, I’ll have to brush my teeth before you’ll kiss me again,” Julian teased him.  He was feeling agreeably mellow, and the champagne enhanced that, even if it was only synthehol.  

“That may not be necessary, if the strawberries take away the taste sufficiently.”  Data hesitated, then asked, “May I lean against you?  I think that would be pleasant.”

“All right.  With my arm round you?”

“Yes, please.”  Sitting nestled against Julian’s side, he emitted a small, contented sigh.  “This is going very well.  Is it not?”

“It definitely is.  I’m going to ruffle your hair up again, though.”

“Does it make that much difference to my appearance?”

“Not so much.  It’s just the icing on the cake.”  Julian flicked a lock down across Data’s forehead.  “I like the way you look either way.  Tidy, ruffled, dressed, undressed.  That reminds me, what were you starting to say about your mother?  Where did you get a mother?”

“She was married to my father, and contributed to my design.  I met her some time after I first met you.  That is to say, I knew her earlier, but my memory of my early life was deleted.  Her name is Juliana Tainer.”

“Well, I like her name, obviously.  Did you like her?”

“I have mixed feelings about my mother, but she is important to me.  Will you mind if I change the subject?  At present I want to concentrate on happiness.”

“Not at all.  Believe me, I understand about mixed feelings where parents are concerned.”

“However, I believe she would be happy to hear about you.  She was concerned about my sexuality.”

“How do you mean?”

“She feared that I would not be able to have relationships.  It was somewhat awkward. At one point when I told her that I was going to see Counsellor Troi after work, she took this to mean that I was going to see my girlfriend rather than my therapist.”

“Ah, yes.  Never underestimate the ablity of the doting mother to see what she wants to see and ignore all your protests to the contrary.  Do you talk to the counsellor a lot?  I haven’t seen one in ages; we make do without on DS9.”

“Counsellor Troi has been immeasurably helpful to me in understanding human behaviour and relationships.  Her kindness, patience and compassion are remarkable.  She is highly intelligent and perceptive and also, I believe, very beautiful.”

“Well, if you talk like that about her, no wonder your mum thought you were in love with her.”

“I did not describe her in those terms at that time.  I do love Counsellor Troi, I have been glad to discover, but it is a platonic attachment.  Indeed, in some ways,” he went on, his brow crinkling as something occurred to him, “Deanna has played a more maternal role in my life than my mother has.  But this brings me to another point which is important and which I have neglected to attend to.”  He sat up straighter, looking troubled.

“What happened to concentrating on happiness?”

“This may be important to our happiness.  I discussed our situation with the counsellor and she expressed some concern about the effects of rushing into sexual involvement.  She also advised me to discuss expectations with you… but I have not done that, and I have certainly rushed…”  He trailed off in dismay.

“Well, no, come on.  By a lot of measures we haven’t had _sex._  Try not to worry about that,” Julian said hastily.  “And we can still talk about expectations if it’s important to you.  Expectations about what?”

“The nature of the relationship between us, and our needs and wishes.  She advised me to tell you what I hoped for in a relationship, but I fear that the things I have thought of are incomplete.”

“I’m curious now.”  Julian propped his arm along the back of the couch and his cheek on his hand.  That took his arm away from Data’s shoulders, so he compensated by taking his hand with the other.  “What are some of those hopes?”

“I want to explore the possibilities of my new emotional capacity with you.  I want to experience romantic affection and sex.  I want to kiss you frequently.  I want to share dreams with you, and games, and jokes, and mysteries.  I know, though, that we will need to part ways at the end of this week.  I hope that I will see you again, many times, but I am conscious of the limitations this places on our relationship.  In these circumstances people speak of not getting too attached, but I do not know how to maintain detachment when I want intimacy so much.”  He paused, frowning thoughtfully.  “I think, too, that it will be an interesting experience to miss you.”

“If your name weren’t Data, it would have to be Frank.”  That elicited a small snort of laughter from Data.  “Why do you think that’s incomplete?”

“Should there not be more?”

“What you just said is just what I want too.  And if we both go in knowing that this won’t be for the long term, we can enjoy it without worrying about that.  With frequent kissing and everything.”

Data looked at him as if he would like to think he knew what he was talking about, but retained serious doubts.  “But what if I am falling in love with you?”

“You’d be doing me a great honour, and I’d do my best not to make you regret it.”

Data nodded thoughtfully.  “What would you expect from me?”

“You’ve covered it, really.  And just to be your own sweet self whose company I enjoy so much.  You’re so fascinating, and you’re doing something so extraordinary just by living your life.  I’d like to accompany you, if only for a while.”  Julian had been feeling a bit uncomfortable when Data became so serious about this, but he was pretty sure he’d responded well.  Dwelling on what might go wrong at the beginning of a relationship had no appeal for him, especially when it was going so well so far, but he hadn’t dismissed the subject.  He felt he deserved some sort of maturity sticker for that.  “Feel better?”

“I believe I do.  Shall we eat strawberries to celebrate?”

 

They followed eating strawberries to celebrate with drinking champagne to celebrate, and Data was somewhat disappointed at being unable to taste the difference between the real thing and the replicator version.

“You probably just need to educate your palate,” Julian suggested.  “I wouldn’t be surprised if, right now, your reactions to sensory stimuli are strong but not particularly _complex._  That sort of nuance will come in as you become more familiar with them and can really notice the details, because you’re not being swamped by first impressions.”

“Do you think so?”  Data found this encouraging.

“I have no idea, but it sounds plausible, doesn’t it?” he admitted, grinning.  “Anyway, I think you’ve thoroughly indulged your sense of taste.  Try something else.”  He leaned in for a kiss and was met with enthusiasm, particularly since only the tastes of strawberries and wine remained on his tongue.

“Shall I get into your lap, as you did to me?” Data asked between kisses.  “I would like to know what that was like on your part.”

“Be my guest,”  Julian said, sitting back and opening his arms.

“And I want to experience all that arousal and pleasure again, but with new variations,”  Data said, clambering.  “There are so many things that I want to try, and theoretical knowledge that I wish to test empirically.”  He could see the appeal of sitting like this.  Besides the physical proximity and the ease of touching and kissing, there was the aesthetic pleasure of looking down into Julian’s upturned face, avid and a little flushed.

“You sound like a man with a to-do list.  Tell me, do you want to stick to asking me to do things, or do I have leave to improvise?”

“Please improvise - although I expect that you will still respect any request to pause.”

“Course I will.”  Julian ran his palms up and down Data’s back, lowering them to rest on his bottom.  “As would you, if I got a bit overcome by all your special techniques, wouldn’t you?”

“Assuredly.”  He returned to kissing, agreeably conscious of Julian’s hands circling and kneading.

“Data… something I wanted to ask you, and it’s a bit awkward.”

“Yes?”

“Ugh, it’s ridiculous to be shy about this - all right.  Are you physically set up for penetrative sex?  To be penetrated, I mean?  And I’m absolutely not assuming anything about what you’d _like_ to do, and I think I’ve broached the whole subject from the wrong side altogether.”

“I am,” Data said, “but I also find this a somewhat awkward subject, because it calls attention to my artificiality.  I have an _orifice,_ but it is not exactly an anus or, indeed, a vagina, since it is not connected to any digestive or reproductive system.  As far as I can tell it is designed for pleasure only.  I feel some concern that its artificiality will make it unappealing.”

“Well, no, not at all,” Julian said, although he looked somewhat taken aback.  “You don’t need to worry - “

“But,” Data said, with emphasis, “I am telling _you_ about it because my concern is outweighed by how encouraging you have been.”

“Well, that’s very nice to hear.  Very nice indeed.  I mean, I find penetration a bit difficult myself.  I like how it feels _inside_ but it’s _getting_ it there that’s no fun.”  Julian’s hands slid to hold Data’s hips, resting there gently without roving around.  “So I suppose the next question is, would you like to try something like that?”

“Yes, of course.  I want to try many different ways of coupling, and to discover what best pleases both me and you.  I have never made any use of that orifice, so I believe I may say it is about time.”

Julian laughed fondly and drew him in for another kiss.  Data felt a kind of pleasant frustration with the impossibility of telling someone how good his tongue felt while it was in one’s own mouth.  He was equally aware of the warm, tingling sensation growing once again in his penis, beginning to stiffen and stretch against the fabric of his underwear, and now that he was considering his orifice being involved in sex, he was also conscious of it feeling warm. His curiosity at that was as avid as his growing arousal.  Feeling daring, he reached between them to untie the sash of Julian’s borrowed dressing gown, then slipped his hand between Julian’s legs to squeeze and stroke.  Julian’s penis thickened in small surges as its erectile tissue became engorged, and he made contented, greedy little sounds in his throat, sucking at Data’s lips.

“Want to go back to bed?” he murmured.

“I am confused by how many different things I want to do.  It is difficult to assign an order of priority when I am aware of so many possibilities and they are all so appealing.”  He considered the hard shaft in his hand.  “May I try oral sex?”

“Giving or receiving?”

“Giving first.”

“You’re so _generous._  Yes, you definitely may.”  He watched appreciatively as Data shifted to kneel on the floor, between his legs, and stroked his hair, both large hands combing through and ruffling its sleekness.

He began by licking.  It tasted salty and sharp, somewhat coppery, and the glans felt plump and tender against his tongue.  General anatomical knowledge was becoming keenly particularised; the abstract concept of how a foreskin looked and felt was overwritten by the exact colour and texture of Julian’s foreskin and the way it shifted as he sucked.  Then there were the throaty sounds Julian made, and the way he clutched at Data’s head, his hands trembling and then relaxing.  He shifted his hips forward, spread his legs wider and braced his feet on the floor.

“God, that’s good!  And you look so lovely doing it.”

“Mm?”

“I really can’t cope with how cute you are.  Oh, yes, deeper.”  At this point, he seemed lost for words.  His head lolled against the back of the couch, a blissful smile on his face, and his breathing grew deep and heavy while his thick brown lashes fluttered against his cheeks.  He gave soft, eager little moans, and his hips did not quite rock, but stirred as his buttocks and thighs tensed and relaxed in rhythm.  Data could see him gently biting his lower lip, which he discovered he found very endearing.  The whole experience made him feel highly proficient, and the pleasure he took in that kept enhancing this odd but enjoyable emotional state in which his consciousness of his arousal only intensified the arousal, making him feel all the more joyfully, enthusiastically sexual.  He worked ardently with his hands and his mouth together, intrigued by the responses he could elicit, until his nose was pressed to Julian’s belly and his throat was full and hot.  He was still there when Julian climaxed, gripping his shoulders and giving a long, contented groan.

“Mmm…”  Julian gradually lifted his head and looked down at Data adoringly, stroking his cheek.  “Are you all right?  I got a bit worried about whether you could breathe, but you seemed so keen.”

Data drew back carefully and wiped his mouth with one hand; he was conscious that his chin was quite wet.  “I am all right - and _you_ are satisfied, are you not?”

“Oh, you look so _proud_ of yourself.”  Julian leaned forward and hugged him tightly, and pressed a loud kiss to his cheek.  He made a sort of happy growling sound and rubbed his own cheek against Data’s, to his confusion but not displeasure.

“Yes, I am.”

“And you should be, gorgeous.  Ahh, I’m swimming in oxytocin at the moment.  ‘Scuse me if I gush.”

“I wonder if I have some positronic equivalent of oxytocin.”

“I propose an intensive course of experiments to find out.”  Julian leaned past Data to take a napkin from the coffee table and blotted his chin with it.  “So you’re definitely all right?  No sore throat or anything?”

“None, but I appreciate your asking.  I feel _very_ good.”  He got to his feet and held out his hands to help Julian up.

“Is that a subtle hint that you want to go back to bed?”

“I was not trying to be subtle.”

“Good, because your cock’s sticking out of your shorts,” Julian observed with a smile as he rose.  

“You have made it feel strange again.”

“Come on and I’ll make it feel amazing.”  

Julian towed him along by his hands and tumbled him onto the bed, sending Spot leaping away with a squall of indignation.

“I like it when you lie on top of me.  The contact with the full length of your body is very stimulating.”

“I know what you mean.  Help me get your shirt off and it’ll be even more so.”  Julian shrugged off the dressing gown and pushed Data’s shirt up, shuffling down to kiss his chest while he struggled to pull it over his head while lying down.  “I was wondering.”

“Yes?”  He peeped out from under the shirt, still covering his hair.

“Well, you said you’ve got an opening that’s not an anus or a vagina.  What do you call it?”

“It is... an orifice.  I do not know what else to call it.”

“Hmm.  I’m just thinking about analogues in organic anatomy.  Cloaca?”  He followed that with another kiss over the sternum.

“I do not lay eggs through it,” Data objected, freeing himself from the refractory shirt and dropping it off the bed.

“Good point.”  Julian stretched up to nuzzle into the side of his neck, pressing a warm, wet kiss where it met his shoulder.  “We can say orifice if that’s all right with you.  But if you think of something you like better, we can always switch to that.  I just need _something_ to call it.”

“If you think of a good name for it, please suggest it,” Data said.  “I would appreciate your input.”

“I hope you do,” Julian said, with a faint smirk.  “Do you want to show me?  Or not yet?  I’m curious, but there’s no hurry.  What would feel best for you right now?”

“I am not sure of the best way to show you.  I have not needed to show anyone before - but I do want to.  Perhaps if I turn over and part my legs, you will be able to see?”  He pushed down his shorts and rolled onto his belly.  “If it is not visible, try probing the cleft with your fingers.”

“You’re sure you want me to?”

“Yes, please.”  He tried to tilt his hips to expose the opening more.  It was feeling warmer and odder than ever, and he was conscious of some kind of moisture emerging.  He felt Julian’s warm fingertips sliding between his buttocks, which sent a sweet little shiver right up to the nape of his neck, and softly pushing inward and down.  Then he felt a kind of yielding sensation that made him gasp.

“My God, you’re wet.  And it smells like honey here, too.  Have you touched yourself here?”

“Yes, but it was only to investigate - I did not - oh…”  He pressed his face into the covers, trembling.

“Feeling good?  Hurting?  I really need you to tell me.”

“Feeling - yes - I think - I think I have a sensitivity there very similar to my penis.”

“That _sounds_ good.”

“Oh, yes.”  He tried to lift his hindquarters and found that drawing up his knees helped.  “Please touch it some more.”

“I can see it better now.  Want me to describe it for you?  I mean, have you had a look at it with a mirror or anything?”

“Please tell me how it looks to you.”

“Well, you’re right that it’s not like a vagina or an anus.  Nothing like labia, no puckering around the entrance.  It’s kind of a soft little slot or almost like a pocket, tucked in behind your balls, perhaps three or four centimetres long.  It’s very neat and - well, I think it’s pretty.”

“Really?”

“Really.  And if I try to spread it with my fingers a bit - is that okay?  Yes?  The opening’s kind of oval, and it’s shiny wet, and did I tell you it smells like honey, because it smells like honey?  Data, I really want to lick it.”

“Please, not yet.”

“Of course.  Pause?”

“Pause,” he agreed, fervently.  The trembling was calming down, but he wanted time to be sure it was not coming back.  He was aware that his position was ungainly, lying with his chest resting on the bed but his behind raised, and he managed to compose himself sufficiently to get his upper body up on his elbows.  He could feel the air on the wet skin quite acutely, and he thought he could imagine what it would be like to feel Julian’s tongue there.  In the meantime Julian was stroking the backs of his thighs, which was soothing and agitating at the same time.  “I think I am uncomfortable.”

“That’s no good.  Do you want to stop?”

“No.  I think this position is wrong.  I will turn over.”  He rolled onto his back, feeling only more awkward.  “Part of my difficulty is that my files on sexuality do not deal with any bodily configurations precisely like my own.”

“Ah, I see what you mean.”  Julian lay beside him, propped up on one elbow and stroking Data’s chest with the other hand.  “No precedent to guide you, no tried-and-true technique.”

“This seems a significant oversight.”

“I know.  We can work something out, though.  Or we can just put it in the too-hard basket for now.  There’s no absolute _need_ to have sex in any particular way.”

“But I liked you touching it,” Data protested.  “I do not _want_ to stop but I am unsure how to proceed.”

“Come here.”  Julian rolled him onto his side so that they were face to face and gathered him into a hug, followed by a long, soft kiss.  He passed one hand down over his back and under his buttock, along the back of his thigh to lift his knee.  “Here, put your leg over mine.  Good.  Let’s not worry about how to proceed.  Let’s just sort of noodle around and see what happens.”

“All right,” Data said readily.  He clearly felt that he was on much firmer ground with kissing, and Julian found his interpretation of “noodling around” rather funny and endearing.  He hadn’t expected to get his elbows petted, but Data must think they were worth his time; he spent quite a lot of it on them.  Julian lay and luxuriated in being very thoroughly kissed and assiduously stroked, feeling deliciously warm and endorphinated.

“I enjoy all your different textures,” Data murmured.  “The soft skin here,” and his fingertips traced the inside of Julian’s forearm, somewhat ticklish, “and the rough skin here,” returning to circle the point of his elbow.  “The difference between your hair here,” combing over the top of his head, “and here,” stroking the down at the nape of his neck, “and here,” pushing lightly with his hips so that his erection brushed at the wisps growing below his navel.  That nudge almost made Julian giggle; every now and then he had a little reminder that his experience with men was still quite small.  The feeling of someone else’s hard cock nudging against his belly was still something of a novelty, and there were times when it seemed so _blatant_ that he wanted to laugh, at himself as much as anything.  More than that, though, it felt _good,_ just as it felt good to reach between them and lightly touch it and feel Data’s hips twitch again.

“Yes?”

“Yes.”  His voice dropped away in a moan as Julian’s fingers wrapped around him, and he leant his head on one warm, bony shoulder as he began to rub.

“I _know_ that’s good,” Julian murmured, “just from the look on your face.  Your eyebrows squinch together and up in the middle, and your mouth falls a bit open and your eyes droop closed, and you just look like you can hardly contain all that you’re feeling.  I love seeing you have such an intense reaction.”

“Please, a little tighter…”

“Like this?”

“Yes, yes.  Oh… oh, your hands are very dextrous.”

“It’s a combination of professional skill and the fruits of years of fervid masturbation,” Julian said, with an undercurrent of amusement in his voice.  “And it might please you to know that to this dextrous hand your cock feels just as real as real.  That’s it.  You want to thrust a little bit, don’t you?”

“Yes…”  He ground into Julian’s palm with a soft grunt.

“I love seeing you _wanting_ like that.”  More kissing, finding a rhythm between his hand and Data’s hips.  He passed his free hand down Data’s back, skimming around the vulnerable indentation, and gave his bottom a friendly squeeze.  It was quite a lean, flat bottom, nothing spectacular in itself, but it wriggled enjoyably.  After a moment’s consideration, he slipped his middle finger down into the cleft a little way, and made a questioning kind of sound.  Data made an affirmative kind of sound, still kissing him hungrily, and hitched his leg higher over Julian’s hip. 

He slid his finger lower, a little at a time.  It was tricky, when he was getting this excited, to keep calm enough to be as gentle and controlled as he was sure Data needed him to be.  He reminded himself not to complicate it.  He had simple things to do.  Left hand, rubbing, milking.  Right hand, inching downward.  Tongue, swirling gently against Data’s in the suction of a kiss.  Cock, thickening again but able to wait.  His fingertip met wetness, and then yielding.  Slowly, delicately, he traced the rim of the opening.   _He might think of it as an orifice but it’s stuck in my head as a pocket.  Sweet little pocket._ He circled and dipped, wiggled his fingertip a little, dipped deeper.  The mouth of the pocket tightened and relaxed, almost fluttering.

“How’s that feel?” he murmured.  “Nice kind of tickle?”

“Mmm… very strange.  But I do feel an urgency for you to continue probing.  Do _you_ like it?”

“Love it.  It’s so juicy wet.  So if I push a bit…”

“Oh… oh my… pause, please.”

“Take my finger out?”

“No, oh, no.  Please…”

“It’s all right.  Just keeping it still, then.”  He relaxed his left hand too, without letting go.  It seemed right to make some kind of comforting gesture, so he kissed Data’s forehead.  He could feel him quivering.

“Julian,” Data said after a little while, “I think what I want most is for you to push your fingers in deeply.”

“Plural fingers?”

“Two?  Please?”

“Always for you.”  They slid in to the knuckles with only a little pressure, and Data gave a long, shuddering moan.  That emboldened Julian to try flexing his fingers, and he gave his cock another light squeeze.  He was surprised but rather thrilled when that was enough to make Data come lavishly.  “That _must_ have been good.”

“Oh! Oh… ohh…”  Data seemed to be trying to say something, but clearly couldn’t find the words.

“You’ll be all right.  Give yourself time for your head to clear.  It’s hard to be coherent right away, isn’t it?”  The reply was a very affirmative non-verbal grunt.  “And I know that must feel particularly weird for you, but I don’t want you to worry about it.  Orgasms won’t make you permanently stupid.”

“I do not feel stupid,” Data said, a little defensively.  “Only… oh.”  He subsided, hugging Julian’s waist, resting his cheek on his shoulder and closing his eyes.  “I am _so_ happy,” he murmured, half to himself.

“I’m going to need a pet name for you, you know.  I need something to call you for times like this, when you just turn me to mush with how generally gorgeous and adorable you are.”

“You may call me dear,” Data said, his eyes still closed and his tone hopeful.  “I have often thought that it would be agreeable to be someone’s dear.”

“Dear is nice, but it’s not _soppy_ enough.”  He kissed the top of Data’s head.  “Given how you smell right now, I could call you honey.”  An idea tickled him and he smiled.  “And it would be fun to call you that in public, too, because it sounds perfectly normal and no one but you would realise how smutty I was being.”

“That would be embarrassing,” Data said reprovingly.  “Please do it.  I would like to experience that.”

“I promise.  At the very next opportunity I see, I will embarrass you until you shine.”

“Julian?”

“Yes, honey?”

“I do not wish to appear ungrateful, but I do not yet feel entirely satisfied.”

“I hope you don’t think that would bother me.”

“Considering your obvious continued arousal, I was optimistic that it would not, and after this experience, I know I want to try penetrative intercourse.”

“All we need to decide is which of the no doubt dozens of positions you know of to start with.”

“I would favour a very simple approach to begin.  Will you lie on your back?”  He guided Julian with his hands on his shoulders, then climbed astride him on his hands and knees.  “Are you quite comfortable?” he asked, very solicitous.

“Perfectly, and wanting you more by the minute.”  He ran his hands up Data’s thighs for encouragement.

“And I cannot wait a minute more.”  Moving with certainty now, he steadied Julian’s erection with one hand and lowered himself to receive it, taking it deep into slick, snug warmth.  With it entirely inside him, he had to sit still for a long moment, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, quivering as he absorbed the sensation of it.  When he began to move his hips, it was in a slow, grinding roll that seemed to Julian to be drawing him deeper in.  

The part of his mind that would always, no matter what, be trying to figure out how things worked thought that there was some kind of nifty little set-up in there shaping the pocket to his cock.  He could feel movement in there that he had no other way to explain, and it brought new meaning to the words “perverted genius.”  He could only be selfishly glad that Data’s maker was dead so there was no risk of their ever having a conversation about it.  He’d just have to quietly appreciate every second that it was wrapped around him.  His mind was going blank with pleasure, which helped.  He dug his heels into the mattress and held Data’s hips and thrust up joyfully.  Data grabbed his arm and said an extremely rude word in tones of such fervent gratitude that he could not stop himself laughing.

“I am _sure_ you are not supposed to be laughing,” Data protested.

“Then why are _you_ giggling?”

“I do not know.  I have never spontaneously sworn before, either.  I did not expect it to happen in response to sexual pleasure.”

“It was an ejaculation.”

Data began to laugh so helplessly that he lost his stroke entirely and doubled over, bumping his forehead against Julian’s.  “Oh!” he whimpered.  “That was _such_ a bad joke!”  He clearly thought of it again and crumpled into giggles until he snorted, which only made Julian’s giggles worse, until they were both teary-eyed and Julian’s cheeks and belly ached.  “Why did that feel so _good?”_ Data asked.  “We are doing this entirely wrong.”  Instead of waiting for an answer, he leant in to kiss Julian, which calmed them both enough to stop laughing.

“I don’t think so.  I mean, don’t all those sexuality files mention anything about dirty talk?”

“Profanity for erotic effect, yes, but not like that.  I could access -”

“Oh, please don’t.  I like your spontaneous version so much better.”  Julian wrapped his arms around him, kissed him deeply and rolled his hips upward again.  Data moaned and pushed back, still kissing him.  They hit a faster rhythm this time, stroking urgently against one another, and Data pulled Julian’s hand into place to rub his resurgent erection.   _Oh, God, I love him being so demanding.  Have to see if I can get him to boss me around some time._  “Come on,” he breathed into Data’s panting mouth.  “Are you going to come for me?  Just like before?”

“Please, harder.   _Harder.”_

“Roll you over?”

“Yes.”

He heaved and Data twisted and they landed with Data’s head hanging off the side of bed, his legs clasped around Julian’s hips, Julian’s hands tight around Data’s and his knees spread wide, digging into the bed as he thrust desperately, hard enough to shake the bed.  He could feel that they were sliding and still couldn’t stop.  Data was half off the bed now, arching back and bracing his hands on the floor.  It looked terribly uncomfortable but the sounds he was making were joyous, high, hoarse cries that culiminated in a full-throated shout as he came.  His elbows gave way at that and they both slid heavily to the floor, bumping along as Julian’s hips spasmed in orgasm.  He lay sprawled on top of Data, gasping for air, vaguely conscious that he had carpet-burned his knees and somehow bent back his left little toe, but mostly overwhelmed by bliss.

“Oh, Data,” he sighed when he had enough wind.  “Oh, my darling, are you all right?”

“My darling?  Yes.  Yes, _my_ darling.”

Julian levered himself up onto his elbows and stroked Data’s hair back from his forehead.  “I really _really_ didn’t mean to throw us off the bed like that.  I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“It was exhilarating.  Startling, but exhilarating.”

“Seemed a bit rough for your first time, that’s all.  I’m sorry.”  He kissed his forehead.

“It was what I asked you to do, and I enjoyed it.  Please do not apologise any more.”  Data pulled him down for a deeper kiss, slow and soft, and made a last languid motion of his hips that made Julian’s spine feel like a liquid.

“It did feel _so_ good, didn’t it?” he said, and another foolish laugh bubbled up in him.  He leaned his forehead on Data’s, lightly rubbing noses.  “Well, there’s lots of time for us to have gentle lovey-dovey sex too.  You’ll see.  I’ll do right by you.”

“I would like that.  I hope, though, that we can have this type of energetic coupling again.  I think I am all the more deeply satisfied because it was so vigorous.  I am deeply contented and could easily sleep again.”

“We should probably get off the floor at some stage, though.”  With great reluctance, Julian pushed himself off and rolled onto his back.  “And I, predictably, need the loo.”  He got to his feet, pulling himself up by the side of the bed.

“I would like to remain here a while longer.  I am contemplating my post-coital sensations.”

“Well, while you contemplate, have a blanket.”  The comforter was half off the bed anyway, so Julian dragged it down over him.

“I am not cold.”

“I know, but I’d feel like a bad date if I just left you lying there.”  Julian went to the bathroom, limping slightly because that toe he had wrenched was really quite sore.  It didn’t matter; nothing mattered when everything else felt so lovely.  After peeing he found some washcloths in a drawer along with, for some reason, an artificial beard, and gave himself a bit of a clean-up before returning to Data with a fresh cloth, dampened with warm water.

“And to further assuage my guilt at neglecting you post-coitally, you get a sponge bath before bed,” he said, folding back the comforter.

“You seem to be a very considerate lover.  I am pleased to have found one on my first try,” Data said.  He lay placidly while Julian wiped over his belly and thighs.  Between his legs was a lavish mess of semen and lubricant frothed together by frenzied pumping, which Julian found both a little embarrassing and extremely satisfying to contemplate.  

“Well, I’m afraid we’ve stained your carpet, but there’s not much that won’t wash out of Starfleet carpet.”  He folded up the cloth sticky side in and threw it into the cleaning slot on the wall.  “I was thinking it would be nice to have a shower together later and get properly clean, but for now I’m too pooped.”

“Let me make you comfortable.  You have exerted yourself so much for me tonight.”  Data executed a small marvel of rapid bed-making before tucking Julian in and snuggling in beside him.  “A spooning sleeping position is recommended after such intimacy.  Do you prefer to be the big spoon or the little spoon?”

“Spoil me.  I’ll be the little spoon this time.”  Julian rolled over and felt Data curl up warm and solid at his back, one arm draped over his waist and lightly stroking his belly.  He was not sure he would ever be able to stop smiling at sweetnesses like that.  He laid his hand over the back of Data’s and interlaced their fingers.  “Good night, honey.”

“Good night,” Data replied, and turned off the lights.  After a moment he added, “Julian, are you sleeping?”

“Not yet.”

“May I wake you up if I want to have sex again during the night?”

Julian laughed wearily.  “I love how after a blowout like that, you’re already thinking about next time.  Are you in heat?”

“Oh, I will let you sleep for several hours.  I do not want to exhaust you.  But it is still quite early, only 1948 hours, so a further session in the early hours of the morning would be feasible, before you have to leave.”

“I don’t have to leave.  I was going to tell you in the morning for a surprise, but it works just as well for a treat now.  Tomorrow’s my day off - or it isn’t normally, but I managed to swap with Dr Kitan.  So we can lie in as late as we like - and yes, you may wake me up if the urge is upon you.  I like to be woken with kisses, all right?”

“Can we spend the whole day together?” Data asked eagerly.

“We absolutely can.  Whether we do anything _but_ screw and eat is to be determined.”

“There are so many, many things I would like to do.  While you sleep I will try to compose a shortlist of requests.”

“That’s a very good idea.”  Julian lifted Data’s hand to his lips and kissed it.  “Good night again.”

“Good night.”  After another pause, Data said, as if he could not in good conscience leave it unsaid, “But it is not possible for me to be in heat, Julian.  I think you know that.”

“Good _night,_ Data,” Julian said, smiling in the dark.


	7. Chapter 7

What woke Julian in the small hours of the morning was not kisses but a pain in his left foot.  He spent some time stirring around restlessly, wondering what was wrong, before realising that he was awake and the pain was why.  It was a dull, hot ache that seemed to take up the whole left side of that foot.  He was still wrapped up in Data’s arms, which felt warm and wonderful, but that foot was spoiling the whole thing.  There was also a weight on his legs, which he couldn’t understand until he moved them too much and it mewed angrily and thumped off the bed. 

“Data?” he whispered, not sure if he was sleeping behind him.

“Yes?”

Julian rolled over to face him and received a kiss just for that.  “Don’t get excited yet.  It’s nothing to worry about, but something’s gone wrong.”

“What is it?”

“Lights.  Well,” he went on, sitting up and pushing back the covers, “it’s that.” He pointed to his left foot, which had developed a nasty crimson bruise radiating out from the little toe, visibly swollen and oddly angled.  “This is one of the little problems of being an organic life form.  When you’re all revved up on adrenaline or endorphins or other silly humours, you don’t always notice you’ve hurt yourself until some time later.  I knew I’d done something to it falling off the bed, but I think it’s actually broken.”

“Oh,” said Data, dismayed.  “I am sorry for you.” 

“I’m sorry for myself.  I’ll have to get it seen to, it’s really bothering me.  Sorry.  I’ll come back.”

“But I should go with you,” Data protested.  “The _Enterprise_ sickbay is nearer than your infirmary, and you do not know the way there.  Besides, you are my guest and so I should take care of you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.  That is the point.”

“We’ll both have to get dressed again.”

“That is only a minor inconvenience.  I will get your clothes.”

“All right, if you’re sure,” said Julian, who had hoped for exactly that.  Hobbling to an unfamiliar sickbay by himself sounded rather pitiful.  He got dressed again apart from his left foot, which clearly would not go into a boot and was unwilling to consider even a sock, after the difficulty of getting through a trouser leg.

“You don’t have a slipper I could borrow, by any chance?” he asked Data, who was brushing his hair with brisk efficiency.

“Yes, I have!”  Looking pleased to be prepared, he ducked into the wardrobe and came out with a pair of somewhat battered-looking carpet slippers.  

“Are these Sherlock Holmes’ too?” Julian asked as he gingerly slid his foot into the left slipper.

“No, Ebenezer Scrooge’s.”  Data explained, a little sheepishly, “Most of the clothes in my wardrobe are costumes from theatre productions or holodeck adventures.  There are exceptions, clothing that I have actually worn for everyday life.”  He reached in and pulled out a vaguely Renaissance-looking doublet sort of garment with a hole in it.  “This is from Barkon IV.  I was impaled in it.”  He poked one pale finger through the hole to make his point.  “And this,” pulling out a rather dapper suit on a hanger, “is from nineteenth century San Francisco.  I was wearing it when I was decapitated.”

_“Decapitated?”_

“Yes.  For various reasons, my head is some five hundred years older than the rest of me.”  He took in Julian’s bewildered expression.  “I am quite all right now.”

“I’ve got a very sore toe, and it’s the middle of the night, and I just found out my new boyfriend’s been impaled and decapitated, but he’s feeling better.  Forgive me if I’m a bit befuddled.”

“Am I your boyfriend?” Data asked, his eyebrows popping up.

“Probably.  Put your death suit away and give me a hand up, please.”

“I was not _dead,”_ Data said, pulling Julian up from his seat on the bed.  “Though the experience did require me to confront the possibility of my own mortality.”

“Oh yes?  And here’s me dreading turning thirty.”

The sickbay was quiet at this hour, with only one person sleeping on a biobed and a Vulcan medical officer checking on the development of some cell cultures in tall transparent cylinders against one wall.  

“What seems to be the trouble?” she asked, turning as they came in.

“Dr Selar, this is Dr Julian Bashir, chief medical officer of Deep Space Nine,” Data said.  “He appears to have fractured his toe.”

“Can the doctor speak?”  Dr Selar asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, and I’m sorry to bother you with this.  If you’re busy, I can take care of it myself,” Julian offered.  “I’m not certain it’s broken - it could be sprained, it’s hard to tell with your own toe.”

“A second opinion may be useful.  Please sit and elevate your foot.”  She indicated a nearby biobed.  “Is your own infirmary overcrowded at present?”

“Dr Bashir is my guest,” Data put in helpfully.  “Thus, it was more convenient to come here than to return to the station for treatment.”

“I see.”  She removed the slipper and examined Julian’s foot with cool, firm but gentle hands, confirming what they told her with a medical tricorder.  “The bones are intact, but you do have a sprain, which is often more painful.  How did you do this?”

“Having sex,” Data said promptly.  There was a short pause during which the part of his mind newly capable of embarrassment caught up with the experienced part dedicated to being informative and helpful at all times.  A look of horror crossed his face and he turned away and hid it in both hands.  Julian sat and marvelled at his current intersection of wanting to laugh, wanting to hug Data and wanting to sink through the floor and disappear forever.  The combination rendered him speechless.

“I do not require further details,” Dr Selar said, not unkindly.  “I can easily treat this with a tissue regenerator, but I recommend that you rest your foot for 24 hours to allow it to heal fully.  Complete bed rest is unnecessary, but elevating the foot while seated will help.  I’m sure you know this.”

“Yes.  Thanks,” Julian managed to say.  He glanced over at Data, who was still motionless and mortified.  He appeared to be hoping that if he didn’t speak or move, Dr Selar would forget he was there.  While she was working on Julian’s toe with the regenerator, he eventually uncovered his face and turned around, staring fixedly into the middle distance.  After some time, they were free to return to his quarters, Julian still limping slightly on a foot that was a bit tender but greatly improved.  Data was still silent and looked as if he was reproaching himself bitterly.  When they were waiting for a turbolift Julian took his hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb.

“Data.  It’s all right.  She’s a doctor, this is nowhere near the weirdest sex-related injury she’s seen.  Or that I’ve seen.  Or even that I’ve had.”

“I do not see why you should want me as your boyfriend if I continue to say such idiotic things,” Data said, looking at the lift doors.

“You sounded so _proud_ when you said it,” Julian said, biting back the laughter that had been threatening ever since.  “I actually found that very complimentary, you know.”  The doors hissed open and he stepped through, towing Data by his hand.  It felt more private with the lift doors closed, and he turned to face him and took his other hand too, bending his head forward a little to try to make eye contact, since Data was still looking vaguely away and downward.  “Listen, honey, it really is all right.  I understand why you’re embarrassed, but it will wear off.  The fact that I’m going back with you instead of making my excuses and going home goes to show it wasn’t that awful, doesn’t it?”

“I think so,” said Data, looking a little encouraged.  

“And you can make sure my poor foot gets bed rest.”  He tried for a kiss and succeeded.  “I mean, I’m sure you want to get me back to bed to get started on that shortlist of yours, don’t you?”  That rated a small smile, and the lift reached their deck.  “Come on.  Tell me the list while we walk.”

“Of course, these are only requests, and I am open to negotiation as to the order in which we do any of them.  Nor are all of them sexual.  Further, in order to avoid imposing my own priorities on your selection process, I have deliberately randomised the list.”

“Considerate and appreciated.”

“One.  I would like us to share a dream again.”

“Sounds good.  I accept.”

“Two.  In a similar vein, I would like us to attempt a mystery together in the holodeck.  I would like to show you the improvements I have made to the plot generation program.  I believe it can produce something to really challenge us.”

“Could I play a secret agent?”

“Yes, certainly.  Three - three will wait until we are in private.”  Data glanced around the corridor in case of eavesdroppers.

“Skip to four, then.”

“I would like to visit your quarters.”

“Do you think we could do a bit of three there?”  Julian essayed his best charmingly roguish grin.

“Perhaps.  However, I would like to try three here first.”  They had reached Data’s quarters, and as the door closed behind them he stepped in close and kissed Julian deeply and lingeringly.

“Is that three?”

“It is a preamble to three.  Three, I would like us to have sex again as soon as possible.”

 

The next time Julian woke, it was simply because he had slept long enough.  He lay snuggled up against Data’s back, since they had decided to swap spoons, feeling dreamy and placid and profoundly fond of him.  He wasn’t sure what time it was.  He had probably slept very late, because he had been extremely tired by the time he finally got to sleep.  It was the best sort of tired, with an ache in his jaw from the long period he had spent going down on Data from varying angles and a surprising lack of ache in his bottom. He had been teasing a bit when he talked about Data’s special techniques, but it turned out he did actually know a thing or two that he hadn’t about how to comfortably accomplish anal sex, and had both the manual dexterity and the infinite patience to spend over half an hour, by Julian’s reckoning, gently and gradually massaging, lubricating and dilating in cunning ways until he was begging for it, before giving him a seeing-to so thorough that he felt as if he’d managed to lose about three additional virginities he hadn’t suspected were there.  

There had been moments that he couldn’t say hadn’t hurt, but none of them were the stop-now-please sort of hurt that had come up too many times in the past, even on one occasion with Garak, though it was Garak who had really sold him on the whole thing when years of experimenting on himself and with curious girlfriends hadn’t done the trick.   _I did really want it to work in the end, though, or I wouldn’t have kept trying again._ He felt disloyal thinking of Garak while actually in Data’s bed, but it was a reasonable comparison when they were the only men he’d been to bed with.  Sometimes he felt disloyal to Garak, for that matter, but what could you do about someone who kept drawing you in and then pushing you back, telling you you were safer that way?  You could stew over him for the rest of your life or you could remind yourself that mind-blowing as he was, he wasn’t the only one who could blow your mind. 

He kissed the nape of Data’s neck, wondering how waking him up worked.  Would he just sleep like a log until his alarm went off?  That didn’t seem very safe if there were an emergency.  Had he said anything about it?  He couldn’t remember, and tried another kiss, on the side of the neck this time.  Burrowing under the covers and giving an encore of his earlier performance would have been fun, but that was the sort of wake-up you had to work your way up to in a relationship.  He carried on with his attention to Data’s neck, with the gradual addition of a hand stroking his chest and belly and the occasional nudge with his hips.  He was just beginning to think that Data really was going to sleep through this, and to feel a bit foolish about it, when he felt his body shift and heard him make a small sound.

“Good morning,” he said hopefully.

“Good morning, Julian.  And good morning, Spot.”

“Where’s Spot?”  He lifted his head to look over Data’s shoulder and found that the cat was curled up against his chest, looking the most placid he had seen her.  She stretched out one paw, showing her claws and pink toe pads, and tucked it back in.  “Then good morning to you too, Spot.”

“I am most pleasantly surrounded.”  

“You’re pleasant to surround.”  Julian wrapped his arm around Data’s waist and gave him a warm squeeze.  “Sleep well?”

“Yes.  How is your foot?”

“It’s not bothering me any more.  Of course, it’s getting to take it easy right now.”

“We must take care of it.  This means that we will need to postpone item five from my shortlist.”

“Oh?  What was that?”

“To go dancing together, formally dressed, in a ballroom.  I think it would be romantic.”

“You’re an old-fashioned android.”  He kissed Data’s shoulder.  “I’ll be glad to in a few days.”

“In the meantime, we should avoid strenuous activity.”

“Even in bed?”

“It was in bed that you were injured, remember.”

“Not really _in_ bed.  Falling off the bed, but I take your point.”  Julian paused thoughtfully.  “You know what wouldn’t be strenuous, but would feel really good?”

“What?”

“Sliding into you from behind, and just rocking together.  How does that sound?”

“I had hoped you would suggest something of the kind when I woke and felt your erection against my back.  Unless, perhaps, that is only because your bladder is full?”

“My bladder will wait a bit.  Spot, go and play in the living room.  This is private.”  Under the sheet, he skimmed his hand down over Data’s smooth belly to loosely grip his cock.

“I regret to say that she watched us last night.”

“Cats are like that, the little deviants.”  He gave a gentle squeeze and felt a gratifying thickening in response.  “Well, if she hangs around I take no responsibility for what she may see.” He slipped his other hand between Data’s legs from behind, finding the soft slit with his first two fingertips and brushing them lightly along its length before reversing the stroke with a little pressure.  Data made another small sound, one that was becoming familiar.

“You seem - comfortable with my configuration.  I am pleased.”

“It’s a nice configuration.”  It was getting his fingers wet.

“Do you think, though…” Data trailed off.

“Think what?”  He pressed a kiss to the axis of Data’s neck and shoulder.

“That the scrotum is surplus to our requirements?”

“Um, what?”

“I feel the greatest pleasure in my penis and orifice.  The scrotum, in my case, does not house any necessary structure.  It is essentially decorative.  It has some sensitivity but I think I would not miss it, and if it were not in the way it would be easier for you to stimulate my penis and orifice together.”  He hesitated.  “Julian, you have stopped rubbing.  Was that an inappropriate thing to say?”

“Um, no.  No, it was just surprising to me, but if I try to think from your point of view, it makes sense.  It’s just that from _my_ point of view, thinking it would be more convenient if my scrotum wasn’t there would _not_ have occurred to me.”

“I could remove it without damage.”

“What, right now?”  Would it just pop off?  He wasn’t sure he’d cope with that.  Being broad-minded and accepting only took you so far.

“No.  I would need to use tools and repair the gap it would leave in my bioplast sheeting, and in any case, I do not wish to interrupt what we are doing.  Except that I fear I have.”

“Not irretrievably.  Let’s just shelve that idea for now, hmm?”

“Mmm.”  It was both a thoughtful sound and a sigh of pleasure as he began to stroke again, and Data tilted his hips to let his fingers enter more easily.  “I would like to investigate whether there is differentiation in the sensitivity in different portions of the orifice.  Will you - _oh.”_

“Oh?”

“There is.  There is a highly sensitive area that you have just passed over.  I think if you describe a circle with your forefinger you will - just there!”  

“That’s a discovery.  Now the question is, how shall we touch it?  Would you like a gentle tickle or a firm rub?”

“Please begin with a small, gentle circular motion - but do not forget my penis.”

“You’re very lucky I’m nearly ambidextrous.”  Julian leant his chin on Data’s shoulder as he worked so that he could appreciate the expressions that chased one another over his face.  “I want to memorise just where the sweet spots are so I can angle for them next time I’m inside you.”

“Hearing you say things like that is… is…”

“Getting you off even more?”

Data nodded emphatically and ground his hips against Julian’s hand.  “I wanted to say it is provocative, but that is true too.”

“So you’d like to feel my cock stroking here?”

“Yes, please.”

“Shall I slide right in, or go exploring for other spots first?”

“That is a difficult choice.”

“Oh, I know.  I can go on rubbing here while you think about it.  If it’s any comfort, I’m just as torn between wanting to be _in_ your pocket and my curiosity.”

“Pocket?”

“Sorry, I just keep thinking of it that way.  Is that all right?  I’ll try to stop if you don’t like it.”

“It does not sound sexual.”

“Suppose not.  Feels it, though.”

“It is gratifying, though, that you have spontaneously… ah…”

“You’re trembling.”

“I had a small orgasm.”

“Good.  Have another whenever you’re ready.”

“My mind is made up.   I will ask you to explore thoroughly later.  Now, please enter.”

“Mmm.  Thank you.  Lift up your leg a bit?  There…”  He slid the shaft back and forth, getting the length of it luxuriously slick before nudging the head into the slit.  “Oh, God, yes…”

“Penetration from the rear feels quite different.”

“It’s all in the angle.  Now, just move your hips along with mine.  Nice, slow, gentle rock.”

“Oh… oh, I think I am quite impatient.”

“Well, we’re going nice and slow and gentle for now, or I’ll come right away and I want to take my time.”

“But I _like_ it when you thrust quickly.  And _hard._  I enjoy that feeling of - of brisk friction and - oh - im - impetuous - um…”

“If you’re all stammery like that, I think you’re enjoying the feeling of slow friction too.”

“Will you rub my penis faster?”

“Mmm… I’m enjoying stringing you along.  But yes, I’ll be kind.”

“I think it is possible that your hands give me more pleasure than your penis - although they have an advantage as there are two of them.  But then… oh… the use of… use of one’s hands requires deliberation and control.  It is… it is not like the instinctive drive that… that animates your thrusting and… and…”

“And it feels _really_ good to get that drive going in someone, doesn’t it?  Get it driving into you?”

“Yes.   _Yes.”_

“So you really… you really want me to _fuck_ you.”  He felt the pocket clench around him, with a delighted little shock.  “Good Lord, can you do that on purpose?”

“I do not know - it was an involuntary - it - I think -”

“Let me help.  Want me to fuck you? See, there it goes.”

“I can feel now - oh - I think I feel how to do it.  There?”

“Oh my _God,_ Data.  That’s - oh - oh, slow down!”

“But I _want_ to go fast,” Data said plaintively.  “It is what I like.  Do you not like it?”

“Oh, what the hell.  Roll on your front.  I can fuck you better like that.”

Data rolled with a pleading moan and Julian moved with him, getting his knees planted, arching his back, almost whimpering with eagerness.  He ground in as deeply as he could, drew back until he almost slipped out and plunged back in.  

“Want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck you into the mattress?”

_“Yes.”_

“Right!”  He gripped Data’s hips and forgot about self-control and just rutted like a teenager.  He could feel Data squirming under him, hear him gasping and urging him on, while the heat and pleasure inside him built with frantic speed and every muscle in his thighs and buttocks drew tight.  He laid his head on Data’s back, between his shoulder-blades, his cheek pressed flat and his forehead running with sweat, thrusting mindlessly into a furious climax.  All the tension slipped away and he slumped limply over Data’s body, panting, his hips still giving random involuntary twitches and every part of him pulsing with blissful warmth.

“Oh…” He swallowed, wet his dry throat and tried again.  “I hope that was what you wanted.  Was it good?”

“I am completely satisfied.”

“Then so am I.”  He kissed the soft side of Data’s neck and lay there, perfectly relaxed, for quite some time.  Although Data might not have bones in the conventional sense, his back felt quite bony; probably a good thing, or he would fall asleep there. 

After a few minutes, Data spoke, rousing him from a drowse.  “Your use of the word _fuck,_ by the way, was a very striking example of the use of profanity for erotic effect.”

“I wouldn’t have thought to use it on _you,_ somehow.  It seems too rude!  You’re so polite.”

“But the fact that it is not a word I would use myself does not mean it is a word I object to hearing.  Besides, I may occasionally use it from now on, in a request to you.”

“Well, that will be a very good way to get yourself fucked in no uncertain terms.  Want to know what I think?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you’ve got the palate of a child and the sexual appetite of a teenager.”

“Do you find me immature?”  Data sounded a bit worried.

“I don’t mean that at all.  I think in most ways you’re a lot more mature than I am.  You’re definitely more sensible and responsible.”

“But you are the chief medical officer of a space station.  That is a highly responsible position.”  Now he sounded baffled.

“Yes, and I’m very good at my job.  I know I am. That doesn’t stop me feeling, a lot of the time, like a kid everyone has mistaken for an adult, and I’m just trying to bluff my way through and hoping the real grown-ups don’t find out.”

“Who is a real grown-up?”

“Oh, you know, Captain Sisko, your Captain Picard, people like that.”

“Bald men?”

Julian chuckled.  “Sisko’s not bald, he shaves his head.  But he is an _intimidatingly_ grown-up man who always makes me feel like a callow youth.  And he _sees_ I’m a callow youth and most of the time he thinks I’m ridiculous, so it’s lucky I _am_ very good at my job.”  He rubbed his cheek on Data’s shoulder fondly.  “There are also people who seem like real grown-ups but, you know, not intimidating, just that they’re not pretending.  A very nice woman I know called Jadzia Dax, who I really need you to meet, is a good example. Miles O’Brien knows how to look and sound exactly like a real grown-up but he’s pretending too.  You fall into a special category of real grown-up, but with interesting exceptions.  Do you see?”

“Not at all, I am afraid,” Data said.  “Are you telling me that you do not believe yourself to be mentally an adult?”

“Well, you know, I can _be_ an adult when I _need_ to.”

“I hope that you were being an adult when you chose to have sex with me, or your ability to consent would be in doubt, and that would trouble me greatly.”

“No, no, that’s all right, I’m definitely an adult for that.  We’ve got into a bit of a weird place when I was just trying to say, I didn’t understand at first but now I think I _do_ understand, once you get through any first-time jitters you’re keen as mustard and you don’t _want_ me to go slow and be extra careful, because you’ve got this huge rush of fearless enthusiasm.  Which, you know, is very like how I remember it being for me as a teenager.  So I can adjust my approach to suit and we can both have a better time.”

“I see.  That does not mean I will never want to have sex slowly, though.”

“Yes, but I bet you don’t want to tonight, do you?”

“Today.  It is 8.25 am.”

“Not as late as I thought, then.  We still have the whole day ahead of us!”

 


End file.
